The Lady and the Pirate
by KatrinaKaiba
Summary: Chapter 17 is here!
1. The Day Before The Wedding

The Lady and the Pirate

**The Lady and the Pirate**

**Chapter 1**

_**The Day Before The Wedding**_

_White Wedding by Billy Idol_

_Hey little sister what have you done  
Hey little sister who's the only one  
Hey little sister who's your superman  
Hey little sister who's the one you want  
Hey little sister shot gun!_

_It's a nice day to start again  
It's a nice day for a white wedding  
It's a nice day to start again._

_Hey little sister what have you done  
Hey little sister who's the only one  
I've been away for so long (so long)  
I've been away for so long (so long)  
I let you go for so long_

_It's a nice day to start again (come on)  
It's a nice day for a white wedding  
It's a nice day to start again._

_(Pick it up)_

_Take me back home  
There is nothin' fair in this world  
There is nothin' safe in this world  
And there's nothin' sure in this world  
And there's nothin' pure in this world  
Look for something left in this world  
Start again  
Come on_

_It's a nice day for a white wedding  
It's a nice day to start again.  
It's a nice day for a white wedding  
It's a nice day to start again_

Elizabeth Swann sat on the extreme edge of her finely primed, regal divan, holding a handkerchief in her left hand, wiping away her unremitting tears from her red glossy eyes and staining rouge on her cheeks. If seen by anyone of just a mere acquaintance at this very moment, a double take would be given as well as a look of utter shock. For it was just a simple fact that the governor's daughter, was known as one of the most beautiful women, or for that matter, _available_, in Port Royal. Men would travel far and wide from generously distant countries to just have a glimpse of the maiden and confirm if the rumors were true. If truth were to be told, honestly, the rumors did not even compare to the loveliness that this young woman externalized. Her hair was a unique shade of honey golden brown, and if it ever were to fall out of its original elegantly decorated style, it seemed to still look as faultless and as soft as if she just combed it out and did it herself. Her body seemed to move with the rhythm of the wind; each step was joined perfectly with the swaying of her lush body. Her eyes were what really left these men breathless. If you were ever to get close enough, the hazel shade they took led the unfortunate man into a vortex of his wildest and most pleasurable dreams. Men loved her, and Elizabeth modestly knew this. And she really wished that they didn't.

But it didn't even matter to her if all the men sought after her and if they thought her to be the most beautiful creature in the entire universe; not when the love of her life had been snatched away from her with such a speed that would rival that of the legendary Black Pearl itself, mastered under the one and only, nefarious Captain Jack Sparrow. Her darling William had died at sea with her heart.

_**Flashback **_

_"No, I don't think this one will do. It's going to be the summertime after all. How about something light and easy to move in?" Elizabeth said as she was passing the three-layer dress back to the attendant she had managed to pry from her original circumstance at the store ._

_"Right away miss." Said the assistant obediently, but with a slight hint of weariness-as this was her fifth time displeasing this insatiable woman-before disappearing behind the curtain in the doorway at the back of the store._

_Elizabeth shuffled through the racks of bridal dresses, when she heard the familiar ring of a bell, signifying the opening of the bridal shop door._

_In stepped Captain Jack Sparrow. His swaying and flamboyant arm movements always caused Elizabeth to smile, and this time was no exception. She smirked slightly as she noticed he seemed to know that he didn't belong here, as he glanced at the sight of the wedding gowns with an unhindered grimace. She was glad that she and Will had a friend like Jack. He was one of those men who always had his wits about him, but still always managed to entertain, no matter who they were. He was a good man and every visit was full of laughter and animation_

_" Jack!." said Elizabeth elatedly, as he finally spotted her among the other young women in the bridal shop. After raising his hat a little in salutation for the admiring, astonished woman at his left- who had looked about ready to faint since he had walked, well more like swaggered, in the door (He sighed slightly. He was used to that short of thing) - he made his way slowly but confidently toward her._

"'_Ello luv," said Jack smiling, but Elizabeth noticed that his smile seemed to be strained; not its usual glow of gold teeth and warmth and just a bit of silliness, really._

_"Jack, what's wrong?"_

_He hesitated and Elizabeth knew that her suspicions of something being wrong was confirmed with his awkward silence. Jack was never silent for more than ten seconds, if he could help it. _

_"Where's Will?"_

_"Uh he's, um, not here." he said shortly, with a slight stutter, which was not induced with the lacings of alcohol consumption._

_"Well then, where is he?" said Elizabeth nervously._

_"Well, uh, " he sighed a gusty stream of oxygen, while looking frankly distressed and forlorn, as he thought quickly and adequately how he could tell her, " I guess I should start from the beginning._

"_The Black Pearl was attacked in an open sea raid, and since it was blocking our path to Port Royal, we had no other option but to fight. I fought alongside Will the entire time, making sure that nothing happened to him, as you had previously requested. But I got hit by another unknown assailant, and fell, and Will took over for me, as I fought consciousness."_

_"And...?" She said, her voice trembling, already fearing, or perhaps knowing the infinite worst._

_"Well, he fought valiantly, as good as the best..."_

_He sighed a third time_

"_But it just wasn't enough. The opposing man... oh, Elizabeth, I'm so sorry. Will died that day, at the end of a tyrant's sword."_

_Then, for Elizabeth the whole world went black as she fainted into the arms, of the only friend she had._

_End of Flashback_

The very memory of that horrible day caused the onward flow of tears to congeal into a waterfall that threatened never to cease. Jack had brought back Will's body and a proper funeral was given. Jack, as his final good bye to his friend, placed two gold coins onto his eyes. The coins were said to be needed in the afterlife to give to the ferryman who would take the person's soul to eternal paradise. Without them, the person's soul would wander the Earth as a restless spirit, searching for those two coins.

Jack held onto Elizabeth, her tears mingling with the threadbare fibers of his shirt, as they watched Will's body being lowered into the ground; his coffin made by Jack himself. But to him, the sweat and blood taken, could never replace the golden silence of the friend being left behind.

Now two months later, she was engaged to Commodore Norrington. She was so grieved by the loss of Will that she had said yes to him. When she realized her mistake, it was too late. The wedding was the next day and all the arrangements were finished. All she had to do was to show up and say I do. She regretted now denying Jack's offer to go on the Black Pearl as part of his crew. He left saying that he will always be there for her if ever she needed him.

Well she needed him now. It never said that the bride _had_ to show up for her wedding. It wasn't _mandatory_ that she say 'I do.' No one had controlled her once in her entire life, and that wasn't going to stop on the simple festivity called a wedding.

Wiping her tears, grateful they had stopped running, she grabbed a knapsack and started loading it with essentials for her escape. She wasn't going to become the Commodore's wife, and spend the rest of her life as a noble woman of status to be looked at as some prize. She was going to be free, and live the life of a pirate. But in order to do that, she needed Captain Jack Sparrow. Now all she had to do was find him. And where would one look to find a drunken pirate captain? Why none other than the one and only, _Tortuga._

_He is the half part of a blessed man  
Left to be finished by such as she:  
And she a fair divided excellence  
Whose fullness of perfection lies in him._**  
-William Shakespeare**


	2. The Escape

**The Lady And The Pirate**

**Chapter 2**

_**The Escape**_

_**The Great Escape by Girls Like Boys**_

_Paper bags and plastic hearts  
All are belongings in shopping carts  
It's goodbye  
But we got one more night  
Let's get drunk and ride around  
And make peace with an empty town  
We can make it right_

_Throw it away  
Forget yesterday  
We'll make the great escape  
We won't hear a word they say  
They don't know us anyway  
Watch it burn  
Let it die  
Cause we are finally free tonight_

_Tonight will change our lives  
It's so good to be by your side  
But we'll cry  
We won't give up the fight  
We'll scream loud at the top of our lungs  
And they'll think it's just cause we're young  
And we'll feel so alive_

_Throw it away  
Forget yesterday  
We'll make the great escape  
We won't hear a word they say  
They don't know us anyway  
Watch it burn  
Let it die  
Cause we are finally free tonight_

_All of the wasted time  
The hours that were left behind  
The answers that we'll never find  
They don't mean a thing tonight_

_Throw it away  
Forget yesterday  
We'll make the great escape  
We won't hear a word they say  
They don't know us anyway_

_Throw it away  
Forget yesterday  
We'll make the great escape  
_

_We won't hear a word they say  
They don't know us anyway_

_Throw it away  
Forget yesterday  
We'll make the great escape  
We won't hear a word they say  
They don't know us anyway  
Watch it burn  
Let it die  
Cause we are finally free tonight_

Elizabeth climbed carefully and cautiously down the colossal oak tree that reached to her bedroom window, the limbs threatening to give way even under her meager weight, but she still managed, without fatal accident, to reach the safety of the soft dewy grass. She headed toward the docks, sentient and cautious to any sound that reached her perked up ears, and if one did abruptly, she would quickly scan the area for a place to hide. It was near dusk; the sun was peaking shyly and leisurely over the visible horizon.

_Soon I'll be watching it on the legendary Black Pearl. _Elizabeth thought, smiling childishly to herself.

Elizabeth, ever since she was little, was always enthralled with pirates. She even would sing a song her mother would sing to her as her nightly lullaby. An unusual song to be chosen for a peaceful sleep, but Elizabeth would never protest, instead she usually begged, and soon she was sound asleep, dreaming of sword fights, vast seas, and dreamy pirates that would take her away from her strict life, like knights in shimmering armor rescuing princesses from high towers and evil witches, she supposed. (A/N I know. It's supposedly 'shining', so shoot me. You'll find out about that later.)

Elizabeth chuckled lightly to herself as she remembered that she had sung that song as a lullaby to a certain pirate captain not too long ago. She paused behind a building as she remembered dancing around a bonfire with the captain; singing at the top of their lungs, without a care in the world.

By the time she grew out of her daze, the sun was already passed the horizon and all that was left was the colored remnants of gold, purple, and red in the sky. She continued her descent to the docks.

With hurried but quiet feet, she approached the familiar majestic ship that was the most fastest and feared in the entire Caribbean. The Black Pearl.

Elizabeth approached the gangplank with anxiousness. She had told Gibbs not to let Jack know she was coming. She specified that all in the letter.

_If he brought Jack along with him, he is really going to know why it's bad luck to have women aboard _thought Elizabeth angrily, and meaning every thought.

She walked along the deck, hearing the familiar sounds of her feet hitting the deck floor. As she looked around Elizabeth came to the conclusion that even though it was dark, there seemed to be a definite change in the ship. The old chilly, dreary, bone-chilling atmosphere that caused the sparse hairs on Elizabeth's neck rise seemed to have been replaced by something else. This new feeling was like sleeping near a warm fire, with only pleasant dreams to comfort you. No nightmares, no worries. Like the ship was a giant dream catcher, taking all your bad dreams and stowing them away, never to be seen again. It had a certain glow that just made you smile, through even your most horrible circumstances. Just like Jack, and his glowing personality and smile that made you feel content, even if the feeling only lasted for a moment, and never returned again. It was a wonderful atmosphere to be in.

"Elizabeth?" said a gruff voice that made Elizabeth jump out of her skin.

She spun around quickly, almost tripping over her clumsy feet. Then tended to make her look like a fool in situations when she seriously needed balance. When she gained back her footing, she looked up and saw a familiar friendly face.

"Hello Mister Gibbs." Said Elizabeth relieved (A/n Ha! I bet you thought it was Jack. Lol)

"Mary Mother of God, you certain look different Elizabeth," The elder man whispered in astonishment at her unusual but appropriate garb.

She wore on her head a green bandana to catch back those pesky wisps of hair that always threatened to cloud her vision, and the hair that remained out, she had pulled into a tight braid to prevent those roots to whip at her face. On her body she wore a burgundy peasant like vest fetish that was commonly seen on Jack, but of course, in less in disarray and threadbare. She wore loose fitting black trousers and the bottom cuffs were tucked into long fitting bootsm that she only just managed to walk in, due to the enormity of the size. These clothes all belonged to her father, who was, without argument, more _paunchy_ then she.

"I tried Mr. Gibbs, hopefully soon I will actually look the part.

"Well you shocked me." Elizabeth chuckled lightly, but her happy mood changed quickly to that of a hurricane before it hits.

"Is Jack here?" said Elizabeth in a whisper that even unnerved her.

"No. You told me ye didn't wan' him to be here. So I found him somethin' to do tha' should occupy his time." He said with a knowing smile, and Elizabeth laughed. It was good to see her old friend, and know that not all pirates were completely dishonest.

"Thank you."

"Why don't you want to see him, lass? Because if ye really want to sail with us, I don't think you could escape him long on his own ship."

"I do want to see him. It's just I'm waiting for the opportune moment to do so. Savvy?" She smiled at using Jack's familiar phrase. In her head she noticed that her posh voice didn't really do the saying justice, but hell it just seemed to fit at the time.

"You're a strange lass, lass." he said with a pleasing chuckle as he shook his head dismally back and forth, " So are you ready to go?"

Elizabeth looked back toward Port Royal. The sun was shining on the fort bell, which was said to stand for freedom. Well the bell was right in a sense. She was going to have freedom, just not behind a fort wall. It wasn't going to be handed to her on a silver platter as everything else was, but she didn't care. She was going to work hard for it. And it was going to start on a legendary ship with a legendary captain.

"Yes. I'm ready."

"Alright lass. Let's go find Jack.

And he managed the helm while Elizabeth waited patiently for the horizon to show her first picture of Tortuga.

_A brief candle; both ends burning  
An endless mile; a bus wheel turning  
A friend to share the lonesome times  
A handshake and a sip of wine  
So say it loud and let it ring  
We are all a part of everything  
The future, present and the past  
Fly on proud bird  
You're free at last._

**Charlie Daniels**


	3. Modest Fun And Pleasurable Company

_**The Lady and the Pirate**_

_**Chapter 3**_

_Modest Fun and Pleasurable Company_

_**Holding Out For A Hero- Frou Frou (Shrek 2 Soundtrack)**_

_Where have all the good men gone_

_And where are all the gods?_

_Where's the street-wise Hercules_

_To fight the rising odds?_

_Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?_

_Late at night toss and turn and dream of what I need_

_Chorus_

_I need a hero_

_I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night_

_He's gotta be strong_

_And he's gotta be fast_

_And he's gotta be fresh from the fight_

_I need a hero_

_I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light_

_He's gotta be sure_

_And it's gotta be soon_

_And he's gotta be larger than life_

_Somewhere after midnight_

_In my wildest fantasy_

_Somewhere just beyond my reach_

_There's someone reaching back for me_

_Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat_

_It's gonna take a superman to sweep me off my feet_

_Chorus_

_Up where the mountains meet the heavens above_

_Out where the lightning splits the sea_

_I would swear that there's someone somewhere_

_Watching me_

_Through the wind and the chill and the rain_

_And the storm and the flood_

_I can feel his approach_

_Like the fire in my blood_

_Chorus_

Elizabeth was walking closely to Gibbs, clinging close to his meaty arm, as she marveled at the sights that were contained into the infamous, but certainly acknowledged and renowned, Tortuga. Everywhere she looked was an enthralling sight. Enthralling but certainly not inviting. Sounds of gunshots, barrels of ale and rum sloshing to and fro from carelessness-and perhaps the acute 

satisfaction that said 'treasures' would never be limited-, men's screams of anguish and pain in their nightly brawls, and women proceeding with their professions of giving men pleasurable company, filled the already overwhelmed ears of Elizabeth Swann. She couldn't wait to find Jack and get the, excuse her language, _hell_ out of this rat hole.

"Just stay close by me lass, and ye'll be 'ight." Said Gibbs, tightening his grip on her left arm. This kind action seemed to comfort her minutely as they proceeded to the 'Faithful Bride'. This was one of the main taverns in Tortuga, as Gibbs informed her, not to mention the most famous, and was likely where Jack would be residing in.

As Gibbs opened the door, Elizabeth's lip curled in revulsion as a dirty balding man, came thrashing out and, as luck would have it, heaving up his stomach's content at Elizabeth's feet.

"Ugh. That's…ugh." She said slightly hysterical with her arms thrown up in mock surrender, as she turned to walk into the tavern. Once she took a step, an arm grabbed tightly around her arm and pulled her back.

She turned sharply at the rude stranger who had the nerve to put their hands on her. She met the face of a toothless old man who had a very mischievous grin and was smiling at her evilly, but his eyes were also tinted with something else...like...

"'Ello luv. Care to have a lil' fun?" Said the disgusting man, really talking to her bodice instead of her face.

"I beg your pardon. I am not of that profession. If you call it a profession." Elizabeth said, full disgust in her voice as she pulled her arm out of the grasp of the vile perverse old man.

"I'm sure a lively strumpet such as yerself could find a way to entertain us."

"Us?"

The old man pushed her into the arms of that of a more burly man. A closer examination showed him to be of about seven feet and his lust filled grin towered over her as she slowly backed away from him.

"Now your not going leave us all so unsatisfied, are ye?" the old man said with perverse humor, as he glanced towards the other two men, both looking less inviting, and the men closed a circle around her. She was trapped.

"Gentlemen." She said realizing the irony of her statement but playing it with a kind smile. "I don't want any trouble. I'm just here with a friend so if you'll excuse me." She fervently replied, moving towards the door of the tavern but the broad-shouldered, seven-foot man, grabbed her.

"Unhand me you vile disgusting creature!" She screamed, through her thrashing and kicking in order to free herself, but due to the immense strength said creature possessed and frail weight she contained it was to no avail.

"Ooh. I like 'em feisty." He said as he, with little difficultly, carried her and, along with the other three men, to an alley.

"Oh somebody help me! Gibbs! You wretch! When I get out of this I'm going to kill you!" She screamed as she was gagged and slammed into the nearest brick wall, slick with the liquidation of shadowed rain and sludge. The impact caused stars to form in front of her eyes.

"Now no one's gonna here ye scream. Now be still and I promise I won't hurt ye. Badly." The old toothless man mirthlessly whispered, as he whipped out a blade and made sure that Elizabeth had a good look before he brought it swiftly over her right cheek, causing her to scream behind the gag. A long cut formed from where the blade made contact and the blood began swiftly pouring heavily down the side of her face.

"Now either ye cooperate, or I'll have to do it again." He said, showing her the blade again threateningly, as her eyes widened and filled with painful tears.

Just as the man reached to unbutton her trousers, and tears poured out her eyes as she tried to struggle against the opposing force, a gruff voice called out through the painful darkness. "Let the gel go."

The men turned toward the unwanted intruder, giving Elizabeth a good look at her savior. And what met her eyes was utmost delight and relief.

The man's muscular frame was laid back, as if he were leaning on a wall, except there was none behind him. His arms hung loosely at his sides and his wrists seemed to hang at his hips like a puppeteer were controlling them as his marionette. His left hand was close to his belt; as if at any moment he was going to sheathe his sword and use it to threaten these men; if you could call them men. He wore brown leather boots that were worn and threadbare from his many adventures and callous experiences. He wore gray pants that tucked into his boots and was held up; it seemed, by a rag towel wrapped around his waist along with his disintegrating belt. A vest and pilgrim baggy shirt, that reveled part of the man's chest, was almost hidden beneath a black, smoke decorated leather jacket. His exposing skin was completely tan from the long hours of toil in the sun. He had long dark brown hair that was adorned with dread locks, braids, foreign beads and other odds and ends that, although peculiar, seemed to fit him perfectly. A tri-cornered hat finished the ensemble. His eyes were a shadowy chocolate brown, and the usual laughter and warmth that radiated from them seemed to have disappeared behind the hard steely disposition of his face.

"Who do ye think ye are?" said the husky man, apparently unaware of this legendary man.

"I be but a simple pirate, who was on his merry way to the tavern for modest fun and pleasurable company when his ears heard the screams of a young maiden like herself." Said the stranger, his eyes never leaving the giant's eyes.

"Well back off chum, we're busy." The old man said, turning his back to the intruder.

"I wouldn't do tha' if I were you mate." He replied ominously.

"And why not? What are ye goin' to do?"

"Oh well, since ye asked so nicely I'll tell ye. I intend to rescue this damsel, and leave on my merry way. Savvy?"

Elizabeth grimaced as the men stared silently at the man for a few moments, and then began to laugh raucously.

"Big words for such a little man." grunted the giant. His fellow comrades laughed, but stopped suddenly as the intruder joined in.

"What are you laughing at?" asked the old man.

The man said nothing, but walked toward the burly man, his body moving in a swaggering way, as if he were drunk, and a smirk playing on his lips.

He stood a few inches away from the giant and held out his fists.

"What are ye doing?" The giant said utterly confused that a man half his size would hold out his fists.

"Let's play a lil' game. Which is your sword hand?"

"Eh?"

The stranger's eyes rolled heavenward as he took in the ignorant, but not unexpected, response.

"Which hand do ye sword fight with?"

"Me right hand."

"Alright, which hand do ye think _I _sword fight with?"

The giant blinked slowly, registering the absurdity of the question.

"I don't know. How am I supposed to know which hand you sword fight with?"

"Oh, how silly of me!" he exclaimed while gently slapping his forehead, "I'm terribly sorry, let me demonstrate." And before the giant could even realize what was happening, the man's right fist collided with the giant's stomach and the giant doubled over, wheezing in pain all the while marveling at the small man's strength.

"Which hand was that?"

The man groaned in answer.

"Oh no, I'm sorry mate. It was the right hand, but valiant effort. Better luck next time." He said and punched the giant in the face, knocking him out.

The other men pulled out their pistols and pointed them at the attacker, and the saviors just stood there with his hands at his side, calm and collect.

"We could kill ye on the spot, mate." said the toothless old man, grinning at the fact that this man was trapped.

'You'll be dead before the bullet leaves the pistol." He arrogantly remarked, his smile finally appearing in a half-sided smirk, " Mark my words."

The three of them shot all of their ammunition in erratic, frenzied fashion, and when the smoke cleared so did their smiles. The arrogant man still stood there and an even wider smile graced his lips, revealing three shining gold teeth.

"Impossible." said one of the men, his pistol still raised.

"Not probable." said the gent with a wider smirk

"Who are ye?" said the toothless man, curious at the man who was able to dodge 24 bullets, without moving an inch.

"I'd be more worried about the bullet holes in your chests mates." The three of them looked down to see blood flowing profusely from the left side of their chests.

"But as a dying request I shall tell ye." He then removed his tri-cornered hat from his head and with a mock salute to the gentlemen he announced, "Captain Jack Sparrow." And with that, the three men slumped to the sodden floor and breathed no more.

Elizabeth just stared in utter astonishment at Jack, her eyes as wide as saucers.

Jack sauntered over to her and began to remove her gag.

"It's alright miss, yer safe..." He trailed off when he pulled the gag away from her mouth, stepping back in astonishment when he realized who his damsel in distress was.

"Elizabeth?" He stared at her, with the same astonishment in his eyes as when Elizabeth saw Jack still alive after he dodged twenty-four bullets.

"How did you do that?" she said astounded.

Ignoring her question he answered, "What are ye doin' 'ere, lass?"

"I came to find you." She said in that annoyingly upper-class voice that bothered Jack so much. He examined her and found he was satisfied how she made herself look like a pirate with the boots, men's trousers and pilgrim shirt. But she would have to work on that voice if she wanted to really play the part. Her voice… it was just so... posh.

"Why? Why aren't you knittin' in a chair by a warm fire with Norrington as your husband?" He shuddered at the very thought of Norrington as her husband. He always hated the fact that Norrington took advantage of Elizabeth when she was grieving over Will, to accept his hand in marriage.

"I ran away. I didn't want to marry Norrington. I want to be free and live the life of a pirate." Elizabeth said with all seriousness and was taken aback when Jack laughed.

"What is so funny?"

"You want to be a pirate?"

"Yes." She said through clenched teeth, missing the joke.

Jack saw the anger burning through her eyes and stopped laughing. He knew she was serious. But she wouldn't be able to handle becoming a pirate. She was too tarnished by her refined up-bringing to truly understand how to become a cunning, conniving pirate lass.

"Please Jack, let me on your ship."

"What? Oh no. No, no, no.

"Why not? You wanted me on before."

Unable to give her a reasonable answer, he rolled his eyes and consented.

"Oh thank you." She said hugging him. Shocked at her sudden kindness, he patted her awkwardly on the back.

She whispered into his shoulder, "Thank you so much for saving me from those pirates. They would have ..." She suddenly stopped as her throat clutched from the sudden onslaught of emotion, looking up at him with tears in her eyes.

"Alright stop cryin'. I hate when women cry. Makes me feel...icky…" He confessed, wiping her tears with the palms of his hands, "Yer welcome", and then he smiled.

"What?" Elizabeth smiled back, curious to know why he was suddenly happy.

"Yer gonna need a lot of work, lass. But I'll be happy to teach you."

"Teach me what?"

"You'll see soon enough, luv." He said, taking her hand and walking her out of the ally into the main street.

"Don't call me love." She renounced, irritated that he always called every woman love.

"Sorry. Elizabeth." He said apologetically.

"Where are we going?"

"Off to have some modest fun and pleasurable company." said Jack mischievously.

"Mr. Sparrow. I am not that kind of woman."

He rolled his eyes and turned to face her.

"First off, it's _Captain_ Sparrow from now on, unless we're in private. And secondly, lighten up. You're in Tortuga, for god's sake!"

"I'm still not some common strumpet of yours _Captain_." She said stubbornly, trying to get her point across.

"Come on lass. I'll buy ya a drink." He said wrapping his arm around her tight shoulders, leading her to the 'Faithful Bride.'

'_This is going to be some adventure.' _Jack thought as he entered the tavern behind Elizabeth

_Change has a considerable psychological impact on the human mind. To the fearful it is threatening because it means that things may get worse. To the hopeful it is encouraging because things may get better. To the confident it is inspiring because the challenge exists to make things better._

**King Whitney Jr.**


	4. Pirate Accord

**The Lady And The Pirate**

_**Chapter 4 **_

_A Pirate Accord_

_**A Pirates Life For Me- Disney Copyright**_

_Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.  
We pillage plunder, we rifle and loot.  
Drink up me 'earties, yo ho.  
We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot.  
Drink up me 'earties, yo ho._

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.  
We extort and pilfer, we filch and sack.  
Drink up me 'earties, yo ho.  
Maraud and embezzle and even highjack.  
Drink up me 'earties, yo ho.

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.  
We kindle and char and in flame and ignite.  
Drink up me 'earties, yo ho.  
We burn up the city, we're really a fright.  
Drink up me 'earties, yo ho.

We're rascals and scoundrels, we're villians and knaves.  
Drink up me 'earties, yo ho.  
We're devils and black sheep, we're really bad eggs.  
Drink up me 'earties, yo ho.

We're beggars and blighters and ne'er do-well cads,  
Drink up me 'earties, yo ho.  
Aye, but we're loved by our mommies and dads,  
Drink up me 'earties, yo ho.  
Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.

"'ere Lizzie. Drink this." Captain Jack Sparrow said, passing a large mug of Tortuga's finest rum to Elizabeth. She took the cup and stared at him incredulously.

"What?" he questioned in a tone of pure innocence, but Elizabeth saw the laughing twinkle in his chocolate eyes.

"Are you serious?" she said, trying to keep her voice even as to not to attract attention to herself.

Not that it really would have mattered. Everywhere around her were vicious men brawling over a dirty glance and broken promises of already complied deception; whores and prostitutes were busy giving their customers their intended needs and making off elsewhere, and dirty scoundrels were drowning themselves, for their sorrows or pleasures, in the vile drink that was called the "God's remedy. And if anyone said otherwise, they would probably meet the drunken end of a cutlass or rounded pistol, especially when Jack was sitting across from her; and she knew how much he loved his rum...

_Flashback_

"_No! Not good! Stop! Not good! What are you doing? You burned all the food, the shade... the rum." Jack screamed at the top of his lungs as Elizabeth was calmly walking away from the scene of fiery debris of palm trees, coconuts, and precious rum._

"_Yes. The rum is gone." _

"_Why is the rum gone?" He inquired incredulously, shaking swiftly out of his horrible hangover state into that of insuppressible anger._

"_One, it is a vile drink that turns even the most respectable men into complete scoundrels. Two! That signal is over a thousand feet high. The entire Royal Navy is out looking for me. Do you even think there is the slightest chance that they won't see it!" she said, practically screeching, her eyes filled with revulsion and fury toward the poor excuse of a man standing in front of her._

"_But why is the rum gone?" he cried, not quite comprehending salvation, and looking practically ready to cry._

_End of Flashback_

She grinned, remembering the hilarious memory, and causing Jack to stare at her incredulously as if she was going insane.

"Are ye alright lass?" he said cautiously, pulling the rum mug closer to himself; afraid she might want to destroy his precious love. Well...besides the Pearl.

"Huh?" she muttered, her eyes crossed slightly in stupid confusion, but then finally pulled out of her haze, shaking her head slightly to stay focused.

"No? You don't feel good, luv?" he said, and suddenly walked over to her and placed the back of his hand on her forehead.

She felt sudden warmth spread through her when he touched her. She didn't know what it was that made her suddenly feel like that, but she felt contented... relaxed under his touch. Jack pulled away finally, and Elizabeth suddenly felt cold and empty without his hand there.

'_Wait! Why am I thinking like this? He's a bloody pirate after all. Stay focused Elizabeth._' The inner voice in her head exclaimed as she stared at Jack intently, awaiting to see what he determined from his brief examination.

"Hmm… Yer a bit warm lass. Are ye feelin' savvy?" he said, worry and concern etched in his eyes as he stared at her.

"I'm fine Jack. It's probably just hot in here."

"You're not goin' to faint on me are ye?" he said a small smile in the corner of his mouth.

Elizabeth, fully knowing what he was referring to, chuckled lightly. She would think often about the day when Jack had saved her from the Caribbean waters and a suffocating corset.

"No Jack. I don't think this simple shirt is able to cause loss of breathing."

"It depends on where ye look, luv." He said, a mischievous grin forming on his face, as his eyes wandered animatedly over her body.

"Mr. Sparrow! How dare you speak to me like that!" She said and brought her right hand down to slap Jack across the face.

Jack, feeling a little fuzzy and vulnerable from the effects of his fourth mug of rum... or was it his fifth? He tried to remember when as his face was forced to the left, his trinkets swinging hazardously in front of his face while the familiar stinging returned to his face.

"I don't think I deserved tha'." He said, pouting his lips in mock sadness, holding his right hand to his hot stinging cheek, which now had formed into an angry petite handprint.

She raised her hand to slap him again, but Jack was ready this time. He grabbed her securely about the wrist, mere centimeters from his left cheek. He scowled at her, eyes narrowed.

"I would not have deserved that one pet."

"Don't call me pet you filthy slug." She said, her expression mimicking his in furious anger.

He turned from her for a moment and started digging through his jacket pockets. He slammed down on the table a few shillings and picked up his mug; downing the rest its contents.

He placed the mug back onto the table, and talked sweetly to a red-haired, green-eyed, barmaid standing there anxiously, afraid of whether to approach the table or turn back to her other customers.

"Fer the drinks luv." He said, pointing to the pile of coins.

"Well thank god. I thought you'd never fini-"she stopped abruptly with a yelp as Jack picked her up and threw her over his shoulders and began carrying her out of the tavern.

"Put me down! You filthy scoundrel, this highly undignified! Put me down at once!"

"Ye have a lot to learn about pirates, lass." He said, not really noticing the punches in the back and kicks in the chest he was receiving. They had reached the Black Pearl's gangplank, and Elizabeth had given up on trying to get Jack to put her down. He was going to put her down eventually. At least this way she didn't have to walk.

The Pearl was absolutely deserted. _Everyone must be in town_ she thought, her lip curled slightly. God knows what they could be possibly doing.

Jack put her down, not so gently, on the hard deck. Elizabeth looked up at him scowling, eyes narrow. She got up slowly, rubbing her backside to hopefully get rid of the pain that had developed there from her graceful landing.

"What was that for?" she said, her face steadily turning crimson from her growing fury.

"Fer slappin' me." He said, as stating the obvious.

"Well you deserved it."

"Now how do ye figure that?" he said staring through narrow eyes.

"Let's see... maybe the sexual harassment is a start."

"Well can I 'elp it if I'm just statin' the truth?"

"Urg! You are so exasperating, Jack Sparrow."

"Pirate. And its _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, _luv_."

"And that's another thing," she said, walking up to him and with each word poking him in the chest, "My name is Elizabeth. Not love. Not lass. And not even strumpet or any other annoying pet name your perverse mind can come up with."

"Sorry luv." He said bowing slightly to her and backing away from her prodding finger.

"Ahhh! That's it! If you call me that one more time, I'm going to-"

Quick as a flash he had his hands around her wrists and pushed her toward their railing, their bodies pressed close together. Her eyes widened at the closeness of his form to hers. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, feel how perfectly her body folded around his, and gulped loudly when she looked back into his eyes.

"What, Liz? Whatcha gonna do?" he said hoarsely, his voice deeper than usual. She tried to squirm from under his grasp, but it was to no avail. He smiled his gold-toothed smile at the state of her discomfort.

"I'm- I..." she trailed off, unable to think of a retort. Her gaze resided to the floorboards. She couldn't bear to look at his eyes; they were a darker chocolate-almond brown and every time she stared at them, they caused her abdomen to get a funny numbness, like it was falling asleep.

"Oh lass. Tut... tut...tut," he said shaking his head, but the roguish smile remained on his face, "If your gonna be a pirate, ye're gonna 'ave to think of a better answer than tha'." He said staring deep into her hazel eyes, anxiously waiting for her to come up with a better excuse. When she turned away from his gaze, he sighed slightly and, rolling his eyes, let go of her wrists and backed away from her. She almost whimpered out at the loss of heat against her, but bit it back.

_What am I doing? He's a bloody pirate. An infuriating...vile... dissolute... absolutely picturesque... Stop thinking that! You love Will._

And with that in mind, she looked up confidently into that of Captain Jack Sparrow's gaze that had been burning into her when she was looking intently at the deck.

"What Jack? Do I have something on my face?"

"Aye, but the problem is that it never seems to stop talkin'." He said his eyes laughing from his joke.

"Funny Jack. Real funny." She sarcastically.

"I thought so." He said, smirking back at her sarcasm.

"Well luv," she glared at him," _Elizabeth_, "he retorted quickly, not wanting her to slap him again, "I think that I'm gonna have to tutor you in the ways of bein' a pirate, because your skills leave somethin' to be desired."

"What's the catch?" she said wearily.

"What do ye mean luv?" he said innocently.

"You know what I mean, Jack. You never do anything unless there's something in it for you. So what do you want?"

He winced slightly. So she did know him well enough.

_Oh well. Might as well tell her._

"Well Lizzie," he said clapping his hands together, "I was 'oping tha' you could send a little letter to our dear friend Norrington, and tell him that you came here on your own accord, so that if he were to catch up wit us...unlikely... then I wouldn't be arrested and swing for it. Savvy?"

Her mouth dropped open and Jack thought it couldn't get any bigger.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME!"

"Luv, calm down..."he said crouching under her fury and holding up his hands to prevent the assault that was more that unquestionably going to occur.

"YOU WANT ME TO WRITE A NOTE TO NORRINGTON, MY FIANCÉ, AND TELL HIM THAT I AM BECOMING A PIRATE ABOARD THE BLACK PEARL AND YOU HAD ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO WITH IT?"

" Exactly." Wrong answer.

The force, in which she punched him, caused him to stumble backwards and trip over the railing. The shocked expression on his face was priceless...

Forgetting about her anger, she rushed to gaze over the side of the ship and almost laughed at the sight that met her laughing eyes.

Jack was floating on his back in the water, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open. Elizabeth saw through her peripheral vision an object floating downward. Her gaze rested on Jack's hat, making its way down, gliding gracefully in the air. Like it was flying. She and Jack's eyes moved in unison on the falling hat, until it landed on Jack's face. Elizabeth couldn't contain herself anymore. She buried her face in hands and began laughing hysterically, tears springing to her eyes.

She hadn't noticed that Jack had clambered back on the ship until she felt a pair of dripping cold hands pulling her by her shoulders.

"Ye think that's funny?" he said glaring. His gaze was almost intimating, if she wasn't laughing so hard.

"I th-hought I-t was imm-m-ensly funn-y." she choking out the word, almost falling in Jack's grasp from her harsh laughing.

"Yeah I guess it was pretty funny." He said, surprising Elizabeth with a smile.

"'ey!" Jack exclaimed suddenly.

"What?"

"I thought you only slapped."

Ignoring Jack's obscene comment, she shook her head dismally and sighed.

"Alright Jack. I'll write the letter, but you still have to teach me."

"I swear on pain of death, milady, that I shall teach you to be as ruthless and as cunning of a pirate like meself and ye will be one of the most famous pirate women in the Caribbean. Do we have an accord?" He held out his hand, waiting for agreement.

She looked into his eyes, and almost fell from the feeling it gave her. They were scrunched in serious concern and she couldn't help but notice how handsome he was. The way he pouted his lips together when he was serious was enough to make any woman swoon, and his eyes... they were a pleasure in their own. They seemed endless, like a haven where she camp in and feel secure... safe. She hadn't felt anymore content until that moment in time in which he stared at her; his chocolate orbs boring into her hazel ones. She felt at peace and decided to take that leap over the side of the cliff.

She took the handsome pirate's outstretched hand and shook it.

_Destiny is no matter of chance. It is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to waited for, it is a thing to be achieved. –__**William Jennings Bryan**_


	5. Pirate Lessons

**The Lady And The Pirate**

Ch.5 Pirate Lessons

'Bloody pirate' Elizabeth thought heatedly, as she paused to rub her aching calloused hands from her harsh scouring of the deck floor. For the last three weeks, Jack had begun to teach her how to help set the sails, tighten the rigging, produce 72 different types of knots-although she could only remember how to do 40-, decently sail a ship and navigate through a compass ( one that actually pointed North; Jack refused to let her use his), disable a rudder chain, and cook what felt like a king's feast. Now he finished his huge semester on efficiently cleaning the ship with his final lesson of swabbing the deck. Well at least now, we'll finish cleaning and get onto sword fighting, she kept telling herself, when Jack made a snide remark about the scrubbing.  
It was all that kept her from taking her bucket and slamming it on his head.

"Ye missed a spot." Jack said pointing, acting innocently as if he was just trying to help, while really he just wanted to see her explode… to give up… to tell him that she had enough... that she wouldn't do it anymore.

But she wouldn't give him that satisfaction. For those three weeks she had endured Jack's verbal abuse on how she was a disgrace for pirates everywhere. That she should just go back home to the cozy comforts of her pleasant life, full of expensive, breath-restricting torture devices, her fancy balls and her every call and whim answered immediately and courteously with the product on a genuine silver platter.

And, although she knew that he was just doing this to make her concentrate and become everything that he hoped she could achieve, she couldn't help but feel disappointed and frustrated when things didn't go her way or when she did it,but didn't do it as fast or as well as Jack would like. Now,because the heat and labor was getting to her, she snapped back at him,

"I've cleaned this spot a thousand times Mr. Sparrow, as you so kindly pointed out, a thousand times before."

"First of all, is that the respect you show toward your captain? And secondly, if ye don't say my name the correct way again, you are goin' t'find yourself scourgin' the deck with ye tongue. Mmm...won't that be tasty. And lastly, ye must be doin' a bad job seeing as ye missed a spot." He said sighing dramatically, throwing his arms carelessly to his sides. Then shaking his head slowly, he added, " I guess ya gonna have to do the entire deck again. Who knows how many other spots you could have missed"

She looked at him, fire flaming in her eyes, at his mock-innocence smile, looking positively like a child who, tormenting a baby with shaking its rattle above their head and out of reach. She broke. Looking around her she saw Jack's sword laying naught but twenty feet away. He must have taken it off, seeing no need of it since all he was doing was perturbing Elizabeth with his unpleasant tactics. Staring back at Jack she noticed Jack had followed her previous gaze toward his vulnerable sword, and then looked back at her again, his smile all but faded from his face. They stared at each other, both holding their gaze for what seemed like forever, neither one giving the other a chance to rush toward the solitary sword, glinting impishly in the sun. 'I can outrun him. As long as I get a good enough start. I'm closer than him anyway.' She decided to take that chance. She kicked the bucket full of dirty soapy water with her booted foot, and she didn't wait to see where it had ended up, when she ran toward her victory.

Closing her hand around the hilt, she whirled around to face a disgruntled, sopping wet, Captain Jack Sparrow. She lifted her blade a little higher to close all space between the blade and his chin and stared defiantly into his, once warm, kind, laughing eyes, into the replaced cold, vengeful, fierce, stone orbs. She shuddered slightly despite the 1000-degree weather that was commonly found in the Caribbean. She finally understood why Jack was called the most feared pirate in the entire Caribbean. Even though Jack showed himself off as a roguish debonair, and was always good for stories and jokes and drinking you under the table, he kept concealed another part of his mysterious personality.

He wore this part on his face but, no one really saw it because of his pleasing nature, until it was too late… until it was the opportune moment so he would say. This part was like a malevolent shadow. A shadow that ensnared his enemies, and erased all their confidence, stopped their thoughts into incomprehensible stutters, and caused them to shrink back into a cool darkness that suffocated them into hysteria. A part that Elizabeth concluded as his shape-shifter. The part of Jack that he had suffered from harsh unavoidable obstacles in his life. This, although frightening, inspired her somehow. It made her want to have that same command, that same fierceness, that same malice that resulted in ultimate control and satisfaction.

Elizabeth, still concentrating on those skull eyes, was surprised when, shaken out of her temporary daze, found herself with her hands pulled tightly behind her back, causing her shoulder blades to go on fire and Jack's sword, slipping from her hand, fall with a dull clang on the floor.

She could hear his harsh warm breathing on her, and she shuddered again, although it had nothing to do with the weather, or his cold disposition.

"So, tired of doing ye chores. Too anxious ta commence the harsh conditioning of the art of the sword, eh?" he whispered near the shell of her, making that familiar pit melt again and cause her breath to quicken into shallow gasps. Taking her silence as a yes, he continued, his icy voice beginning to thaw back into its shrewd laughter.

"Well, ye first lesson is…" he said lowering his head toward her neck, the warmth of his breath increasing and his bead-adorned hair brushed against her nape causing her to writhe and squirm slightly beneath him, but his hands held her firmly.

"Pirates will use any measures necessary to win, no matter the situation or the consequences. Ye have to be prepared for anything. And I mean," he released one hand from around her left wrist, but used the other one to grip both, and pressed his body against her back. The unoccupied hand began to trail a seductive trail along her thigh, pass over the curve of her hip bone, running up teasingly up her waist and pausing slightly before the curve in her developed breast, but disappointingly to Elizabeth, just tracing the outer edge before making it's homage on the opposite side of her nape holding the back of her neck still with warm soft calloused long fingers. She was surprised at how something as rough as a pirate's hands can be soft at the same time.

Finally, he lowered his lips to the rapid pulse in her throat and whispered, just audible enough for her to hear.

"Anything…" She gasped slightly as she felt his lips press against hers and her eyes widened when she felt him sucking on the sensitive skin that lay there. She was completely helpless to him. She just couldn't push herself away from the heat of his remarkable soft lips as they relished in the obvious plunder in her neck. For one reason, if she tried to resist from her recent predicament, he would tighten her grip on her and she would waste energy on trying to escape.. And for another… it just felt so God damn good. He heard her moan a throaty song in the back of her throat and it was nearly his undoing. He felt himself become harder and he was afraid she would feel his want for her. He didn't want to betray his deceased friend's trust. This was Will's woman, even if he was dead. He had no right to touch her like this, teasing her like she was some wanton bird in a cage, starved of some delectable delight as he hung it teasingly on a string, just outside her reach. She was a respectable woman, not to mention virgin, and she didn't deserve that unless it was her choice. So, despite his undeniable longing for the feeling of her warmth, he decided to stop his teasing. He kicked her feet out from under her and let her fall, unknowingly, to the floor onto to her behind.

"Ow!" she said, feeling the shooting pain grow into to the hollow part of her tailbone.

"Now to begin your studies." Saying nonchantly, as if she had thrown herself on the floor, and he hadn't completely pleasantly violated her, leaving his mark upon her neck. She looked down slightly to see an angry purple 'love bite' begin to form on her neck.

"The first thing that a pirate must know is that no matter the person, pirate or the utmost civilized person in the world, one must not let themselves to be distracted through their sometimes clever tactics, as I have just demonstrated." He said haughtily as he pointedly stared at the growing bruise on her neck. He walked over to her and pulled her slowly to her feet before letting go and grabbing a conspicuous sword lying against a barrel and handing it to her. Oh how couldn't she have seen it before?

"The second thing, is that a pirate's weapon is a pirate's best friend. The most common is the sword. Others are the cutlass, the dagger, the pistol, musket, rifle, cannon, etc. Kind of hard to carry a cannon around with you, so that is why the other's were made. You'll learn the others in due time" He stepped away from her and lifted her waist length sword to be arm level with her body.

"Now, you have to learn the different steps involved in handling a sword. The first is the lunge, which I might add is the easiest skill to master"  
88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

20 minutes later Elizabeth finally mastering the forms of sword fighting and earned an approved smile as she successfully demonstrated the four different types of parry's there are.

"Good. Very well done." He said giving her a comforting pat on the shoulder.

"Now…let's see how ye do with one-on-one combat." He said wiggling his eyebrows roguishly and Elizabeth gave a nervous smile in reply. She wasn't very confident and knew she couldn't last more than two minutes with an accomplished swordsman such as Jack. But she had to try. "We'll go slow lass, and then I'll pick up the pace." He said consolingly, as not to make the already nervous Elizabeth exactly as she felt.

Jack waited on tenderfoot as he watched Elizabeth puzzling over what he supposed was her strategy plan. Jack smiled slightly but erased it quickly as to not let Elizabeth think that he was up to something. But don't get me wrong. He was up to something. In reality, he was always up to something, but it always took him an extra second to realize it. But, as I said before, he was always up to something. And Elizabeth was going to have one hell of an experience.

"Let's start. D'accord?" he said in French, introducing his plan.

"What?" she asked, completely oblivious to the common love language.

"Ok?" he said again, pretending to be aggravated as if he hadn't been speaking a different language at all.

Shaking her head to clear her confused thoughts she responded with a nervous yes, and Jack smiled. The games had begun.

Their swords clashed in a cross position that reflected brightly off the intensity of the sun. Elizabeth was a bit unnerved by Jack's gold filled smile, but she didn't have enough time to ponder it's meaning when Jack had brought his blade smartly down to get her to give her upmost attention. She answered by parrying before the sword could slash the front of her borrowed shirt. She couldn't possibly work on a pirate ship dressed in a corset constraining dress and heeled leather shoes, let alone fight this obviously threatening skilled pirate captain, now could she?

Time passed, and the once lenient Jack, picked up the velocity of their clashes by a great amount, and Elizabeth struggled to keep up. Jack smirked. Time to for the next stage.  
Thrusting at her sword hard, Elizabeth's hand buckled under the force, and letting go, her sword flew towards the other side of the ship. Glancing at Jack's sword fearfully, Jack pointed it toward her abandoned sword, indicating that she was allowed to retrieve it. She hurried quickly toward and picked it back up, and walked slowly back to Jack who was waiting patiently. But before she could get in her stance, Jack held a hand up to his brow dramatically and said,

"Oh mon Dieu ! Le soleil brûle aujourd'hui si chaud. En fait, parce que c'est si chaud, je pense le seul moyen je peux échapper la chaleur est en partant ma chemise"

Wiping his brow, he sighed slightly, and as Elizabeth stared at him blankly, and proceed ion what he said, although she didn't understand. He took off his shirt.

( A.N Now if you were any woman, old, young, dying, and relatively breathing, what do you think Elizabeth's reaction was to the fact that Mr. Captain Jack Sparrow, removed his shirt? I tell you what. I have no choice, really. It's my job as your narrator)

Whatever Jack said, whether it was an insult, a sexual innuendo, whatever, didn't really phase Elizabeth's thinking at the moment. The fact that her eyes met with the unexpected glory of Captain Jack Sparrow's lean, muscular chest, did. It seemed as if nothing else mattered at the moment expect at how his chest's muscles seemed to ripple as he moved back toward her from placing his shirt unhurriedly onto one of the numerous gun powder barrels.

Being of noble stature, Elizabeth never really had any opportunity to really be acquainted to the way a man's physique was formed. But she wished and hoped that every woman had a man, who's physique resembled that of the now throughly amused captain, who deciding instead of pursuing the fight, stretched leisurely.

Elizabeth had to stifle a moan as his clearly defined six pac extended. Since she was staring pleasantly over his figure, she couldn't help but notice numerous amounts, of what she assumed were, battle and labor cicatrices, which scattered across his chest and abdomen.

Her eyes then settled on what she had previously been introduced to, as two gun wounds. She suddenly felt pure fury at the despicable persons who had brought the idea upon themselves to damage this perfect form that would have had Michelangelo's masterpiece David to double take and stare with eyes filled with envy. For what should have seemed as unfortunate disfigurements, were really just like wandering pathways. Untold secrets to understanding Jack Sparrow, and his eccentrics, his secrets, his untold fantasies, his hidden longings. Oh how she longed to trace her fingers along his outer contours and...

What was she thinking? She was in mourning for Will. She loved Will. She would always love Will. And he was just a despicable, vile, dissolute... gorgeous, picturesque perfection of manhood, that proved said Michelangelo false on his observations and sentiments, that the statue, David, was in fact the perfect male form. "Are ye alright darlin'? You look as if you've seen a god or somethin"

But she was seeing a god. A god who could not only twist her thoughts and words with word of mouth but also with the performance of body.

"Yes," she said squeaking slightly, and coughed sharply afterward trying to hide it, "I just felt a bit lightheaded"

"Yes, it's probably from all the heat out here"

"I guess you could say that. You could"

"Well then, seeing tha' you're okay now, how 'bout we continue this little exercise.." bringing his sword down with annoyed emphasis, Elizabeth retaliated the blow by bringing her opposing force to meet his.

Staring viciously into her gaze, he added with jocular smile, "Savvy"

Remembering how she hated the fact that he had the ability to smile like the devil himself, she mentally shook her mind off his pleasantries and realized that she was fighting a pirate, not a god, a pirate. And if she wanted to show him that she was every inch a pirate as he was, now was the opportune time to do so. Jack knew he had had her hook, line and sinker. But like some of those stubborn fish, that seem to struggle, writhe, and free themselves from the hook's overpowering forces, Jack came to the depressing conclusion, that Elizabeth was just like that fish. That stubborn fish that seemed to have warded off his obviously affective charms and invoking physical structure and resumed it's wayward journey toward victory. Well if that was the case, Jack wasn't going to stand for it. He wasn't going to let some stuck up, unacquainted, damsel from the cream of the crop of society, show him as an ignorant fool, and inexperienced pirate. He was going to show her, what it took to be a pirate, even if it meant causing her to lose the most important lesson of being a worthy citizen. Good form.

Time passed slowly, and Elizabeth felt the obvious need to take off her own shirt since it was clinging unpleasantly to her sweat-slicked body, due to the unbearable heat and the added heat cause by their exertions. Now that would be a distraction, and although it sounded like a good plan, she wasn't that desperate.

She was starting to tire slightly, but she used that as her motivation. With determination, she met every blow presented by Jack, who, she noticed, was fighting effortlessly, and using that for fuel she struck with more vigor.

Jack knew she was getting to the point of physical fatigue, but for some reason she pushed harder. He was amazed at how fast she had learned and decided to compliment her thus.

"Lei sa ciò che il suo fare, ciò le darò. Forma eccellente. Il suo un allievo veloce. Ma mi domando come lei reagirà se uso delle tattiche di "pirata" utili contro lei"

Elizabeth stopped trying to figure out what he was saying. For one, it was annoying. And two, she didn't really want to know what his intentions were. She was trying to concentrate.

As a man of his word, Jack unleashed some of his usual tactics of being a pirate, which in other words, were being as unfair as possible.

He knocked over barrels to ward off her advances. He swiped and swerved out so fast it was hard for her to keep up. Finally he did something that unnerved her completely.

With a quick slash he cut off the right shoulder of her shirt.

"What did you do that for?" she growled furiously as she mimicked his attack on him, and slashed his right, her left, shoulder.

Glancing amused at her frazzled disposition, he spoke mockingly, "Ooo. Feisty que obtiene es nosotros. ¿Qué? ¿Isabel a se cansó de jugar es conmigo"

"Why do you keep speaking in different languages?" she exclaimed exasperated, "Why can't you just speak plain English.

"Cause it's much more fun to get you rattled. You look mighty fine, it I do say so meself when you're frustrated," and with a knowing half-smile, he added, "And losing"

With a yell of frustration she ran at him and was about to punch him when swerved away expertly and just in the nick of time. " What is it lass? Are you done? Finished? Quitting? Allumer la jeune fille. Ne pas cesser sur Capitaine Jacques ce la facilement. Les haines Capitaine Jacques quand les gens cessent sur lui. Il montre la mauvaise forme qui est qu'il fait. Et vous êtes une dame de stature et tout, vous ne voudriez pas être accusé de mauvaise forme, maintenant vous ferait "

The games were over between the two of them. Elizabeth was never a quitter, and she wasn't going to give him the delight in calling her that. She hated thinking that she was an example of the obvious cliche that all girls of society were quitters and depended on others for what they needed...for what they wanted. She hated that. And she hated Jack and his stupid smile. She'd show him, and in time, everyone.

He had ignited a fire in her. He knew it. That was what he wanted. She had to believe that there was something outside meddlesome servants, and rich doting fathers.

That not everything in life was as simple as planned. That not everything to a pirate was silver and gold. That no matter was status or position that life hands to you is all as glamorous as it seems. That was the ultimate lesson that he wanted to teach her. Would she learn it today? Probably not. But she would get a taste of it, and in time, she would realize that he didn't push her for pleasure. She would know that he didn't strain her, so he would the cleanest ship in the entire Caribbean constantly. It was so he could prepare her. Prepare for those unpleasant things in life. Not like swabbing decks and duels, but those more trivial obstacles. The ones where the outcome truly mattered. And so, he concluded, that she had gotten her taste. She had passed the test.

With on swipe he blocked her lunge, the easiest move to perform in the art of fencing, and kicked her feet out from under her. She fell, without much grace, and ignoring that as her hand hit the deck's solid surface that her sword fell from her limp hands, she stared at him with shocked anger.

He kicked her sword out of the way, straddled her which skillfully prevented her from moving, and posed his sword at the precise point of her jugular vein, proposing a death strike.  
She stared worried from his sword's point to the pointing grim eyes staring at her.

"Je vous ai dit avant Elizabeth. Les pirates toujours essaient leur fort égarer leur adversaire, quoi que signifie nécessaire. Mais, je suppose que vous avez choisi de négliger mon avertissement. Ou peut-être vous avez pensé pourrait vous contourner mon projet insurpassable. Bien, deviner quelle princesse. Je ne suis pas l'un étendu par terre avec une épée à ma gorge et un pirate impitoyable à l'autre fin, qui n'hésiterait pas pour découper dit gorge et la montre dans pur, le rire de unmerciful comme le liquide de votre vie draine lentement de vous. Et je suis certain, qui aucun pirate, et certainement pas me, se tiendrait pour écouter les demandes interminables de votre bouches et vous part resté sans réponse. Et vous voulez savoir pourquoi ? « Causer je suis Jacques Sparrow de Capitaine… Savvy?"

She finally realized what language he was speaking.

French. He didn't speak it the entire time, but she noticed how this language seemed more fluent;  
more...second nature to him. She loved this accent, and she couldn't help, despite her puzzlement, watch his mouth as the way it moved over the language. Caressing the words like a skilled lover. She now knew, why they refer to it as one of the noble love languages.

"Could you please repeat what you said in English." she said, rather huskily.

He noticed the change in her voice, and they way her eyes were a shade darker and were filmed with a certain glazed presence which he knew from experience, was never good.

" I told you before Elizabeth. Pirates always try their hardest to distract their opponent, whatever means necessary. But, I suppose you chose to ignore my warning. Or perhaps you thought you could get around my unsurpassable plan. Well, guess what princess. I am not the one sprawled on the floor with a sword at my throat and a ruthless pirate at the other end, who would not hesitate to cut said throat, and watch in pure, unmerciful laughter as your life's fluid slowly drains out of you. And I am certain, that no pirate, and certainly not myself, would stand to listen to your mouth's endless demands and leave you unanswered. And you want to know why? 'Cause I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. Savvy?"

"Good. Now can you say it again in French?"

And so he repeated it for her, and she closed her eyes in contentment.

"I think I like you scolding me in French better. It sounds more pleasant than it is."

She opened her eyes slowly to find that the once determined piratical aspect from his eyes to form something untraceable. Something warmer. Something sweeter. Something more dangerous than chocolate, which were now the color of his eyes. Something that caused her to tremble slightly and instinctively wrap her arms around his waist.

He glanced down at the imposing arms around his waist.

What was she thinking? Was she possibly thinking...

No. He couldn't do that to her. She could never know what he felt for her.

What did he feel for her? He didn't know and he didn't want to know. He was here for one purpose and that purpose only. He couldn't betray his friend's love and take of advantage of someone who mattered to him greatly.

Besides she wouldn't feel the same. She was blinded by his greedy intentions, and that would be her undoing.

"Jack."

He could take it from her. He could give her a kiss that she had never experience before in her life. One that only a pirate knew to give. One that wasn't a petty respectful one. No. One that could turn a head but could show truth...longing...passion. One that could blow Will's memorable kisses out of her mind and cause her to think nothing else, except some dangerous secret that she was faintly aware of. One that she, if given this forbidden kiss, would not be able to deny herself if given the opportunity. One that would cause her to give herself to him completely and wholly. And that was his ultimate fear.

Mere inches from her wanting lips, he considered greatly on taking it from her. The temptation was just that unbearable. Using the little reason he had left,  
before it could be stripped away from him as her hands began to trace his chest, he pulled away from her and said,

"I think that is all for today."

And with that he left her, holding the now obvious love bite on her neck, wondering if what he had done to her neck, was what he had intended to invoke on her lips.


	6. Wind Swept Splinters

The Lady And The Pirate

Ch. 8 Wind Swept Splinters

Someone had told him that in two days it would be her birthday.

Who had said it?

Twigg...no.

Gibbs...nope not him.

W-...definitely not.

No, he didn't know exactly who or why said person felt compelled to tell him, but they did, and now Captain Jack Sparrow had another problem on his throughly fabricated and soused head. What should he get her? What did she like? Should I make a cake? Does she even like cake?...

_Oh, I need a drink. _His last, and sometimes even first resort to everything. 'When in doubt, grab a drink.' So being truthful to one of his many motos, he reached down- between the helm and structure that held the wheel as a spool- into his secret compartment and stash of rum, and other odd liquors that he had acquired amongst his many and opulent travels. At this time, his hand grasped the neck of his beloved rum, and pulling it out, he decided he get totally inebriated and decide on the inevitable, but definitely not impossible, _tomorrow._ And, since they were docking in Singapore, the crew would be gone to pursue their own long awaited satisfactions, leaving Jack's plan to unfold with just himself and Liz. And he would figure it all out...after all, who could, if not Captain Jack Sparrow. Women weren't that hard to figure out...

The Next Morning

"Captain!" a shout erupted in a echo in the back of Jack's dozy mind, going hand and hand with the more than present impatient infernal pounding.

The echo began to fade, as Jack slightly blinked his eyes, slowly trying to clear the annoying blurriness that engulfed his stinging vision. The pounding began to throb in tune with the previous night's cause of non-drinking. He didn't remember how many drinks, or for that matter, **_bottles_**, it took for him to feel as horribly as he did right then, as he slowly sat up in bed and the pounding stopped for a few moments leaving in its wake appreciated silence. But he knew that how many he used, seemed to really work.

"Captain, get ye lazy arse up NOW!" the last word magnified by a hundred its original tuning into a sort of warning screech, and a thousand times more in Jack's head. Clutching his head to his pounding and bed influenced head, he stumbled toward the door in just a pair of trousers, which had definitely seen better days, in order to stop the screeching of the very unsatiable hell cat on the other end.

"ALRIGHT! SHUT YER BLOODY MOUTH ALREADY YOU AWFUL WRETCH!" he screamed -not the wisest thing to do- into the face of the honey-toned, second mate, AnnaMaria.

"Well I'm sorry for disturbing you _Captain,"_ AnnaMaria attempted in a mockingly sweet, upperclass accent, but throughly making an acute sting at the saying of his proper title, which in her mind, could suit far better fish in the sea, "I was just commanded by your oh-so-faithful first mate, Master Gibbs, that it was required that you be awoke at this exact moment. Seeing as you were incapable of fulfilling his and my wishes, I had to resort to screeching. Very unladylike of me Captain, so very sorry for disturbing you." She finished in a mock curtsy, and turned to walk out of the doorway and into the blinding sunlight, that seemed to Jack, to be in reserve for bothering him today as well.

"Your no lady," he murmured, warding of the sunlight with pinched eyes, not really caring if she heard him or not. Even if she did, she knew better than to bother him when he was in this state. The hole on the side of the railing where his once very heavy cartography book hit while he was hurling it at her, was proof of that. He have to fix that.

Turning back into his room- and shutting the door with more than an unwise amount of force, causing it to slam, and feel like a mast slamming into his skull- he retrieved a pair of clean clothes (or what he considered clean) and changed. He stood in front of the ceiling to floor mirror and gazed at his appearance for the first time, really looked.

He always believed his hair and beard, with its many concoctions and trinkets, held a very mysterious part of him that no one could penetrate. A part of him, that as people tried to figure out, would get distracted in wonder and awe at where he had acquired his many trappings and traces. He lifted his shirt to gaze at his many battle wounds and tattoos that held its own private stories meant to be told, but never really were discovered by anyone except him. He remembered in disdain what he used to look like as a young lad. How women still swooned over him for his unmistakable charm and stunning good looks. How he hated how they reacted. But then, he enjoyed it now, when women still swooned, despite the drastic change that he put himself through, making himself almost unrecognizable to those who once knew. But why? Why did he care now?

He turned to a portrait on the wall. The handsome facade that stood on the wall, was the pride and joy of his family, and was hung in the entrance of hall so that everyone who visited, could see that joy and pride. Like he was product for their own satisfaction.

He grimaced at the feeling the man's steely gaze left in him. This young lad was nothing more than an empty shell. A stoic, unfeeling boy, who had, despite the knowing look in his eyes, never known what true life was. What freedom felt like. How good life could actually be.

He wore a gleaming red tailcoat, the 12 buttons gold and polished to perfection that accentuated the sides, and golden braid gracing his shoulders. His father's military outfit. Black pantaloons stretched taunt over his muscled calves and thighs, adding to him, like a second skin. In his right hand, he held his grandfather's old walking stick, made of dark mahogany and ending in a huge diamond, that would cause a thief to drool over its sheer perfection.

Jack glanced down at his own hands. Calloused and rough from years of harsh labor and vigorous training. The boys hands were a pale creamy color, long with trimmed cuticles, and pampered to feel as soft as a baby's skin.

The portrait did not hide the height of the boy, who at the tender age of 18 had finally reached it highest peak, an average of 6 foot 1 inch. He may not have been the tallest amongst his peers, but his straight back stature had improved his height in such a way, that his peers were often intimidated by his presence.

As Jack peered into the face of the boy, he could understand why they were intimated. His sharply shaped face was a in-between the terms of hallow and chiseled, since his face did not hide his highly accentuated high cheekbones and sharp chin. His neck was not so long but not so short. More like in the middle, where it was still capable of lifting his regal head and causing him to look haughtily over those he would rather not associate with. His nose pointed out sharply but was slightly crooked due to a football game (English football)ending with him holding his nose in pain, and the doctor telling him it was slightly fractured. His hair was tightly pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of neck, since during this time, it was fashionably, during adolescence, to wear hair that way. His lips were what is mother called poetically shaped. Or as some lady had told him like two succulent butterflies kissing you on a sun lit warming day.

His eyes were the only thing that hadn't changed through his many tribulations and weather beaten encounters, except for maybe the dark applicant of kohl. He had been told over many encounters that they seemed to lighten a room when he was laughing, and darken a room when he was angry. They resembled a pleasant chocolate color when he was happy, and a dark almost black when he was furious. These eyes, he was told, was his signature part, and could cause a young maiden to swoon in lustful ecstacy , or an enemy to cower in fear. They were what his mother called, the orbs to other worlds. That if only someone were to gaze into his eyes long enough and with a clear mind, they were like open windows to the true identity of Captain Jack Sparrow. That was why Jack tended to move his eyes around when talking to someone, so the person would be more attracted to their fervor and color then what lied within them.

That day when he and Elizabeth were in that compromising position, and her warm hazel eyes entranced his dark chocolate ones, he sensed her looking for something within him. He felt her strike his very soul, in her dark but innocent pursuit to find...well he didn't know. But he feared what she might have found inside him. He never let himself loose control like that. But when he was around her, he felt himself losing control over his own mind, if he much left to begin with. Losing himself in her own searching eyes, trying to find what he was hiding.

What was he hiding? What was in him that he didn't want anyone to know?

No one would know. He would keep it bottled in him. Even if it killed him.

He tore the portrait off the wall, and left in a crumpled heap on the floor, the frame smashing into a million wooden splinters, cascading unceremoniously to the floor.

That part of his life was just a unpleasant memory.

Hidden forever; to never be recovered from the valley in his heart. And if ever discovered...

Accompanied by wind swept splinters.


	7. They've Got Cabin Fever!

The Lady And The Pirate

Ch.9 They've Got Cabin Fever

Elizabeth was bored.

All she had was this bed to lay on and that wood planked wall to stare at until she slowly, but surely, slipped into a madness that is commonly diagnosed as 'cabin fever'. This comes about when a person, or maybe even a group of persons- especially said person- feels themselves moving backward or forward, in a very slow, crawling, pace. The air around them is very stale and motionless. The people around them seem bland and achromatic, and the once most pleasing factors around them, seem dull, savorless, and even insipid.

This ailment has claimed countless souls who are need of those loss of emotions and sentiments the most. Once drugged with this type of reverse novocaine, the only way to find real pleasure anymore, is to counteract the drug with one either more powerful, or of equal strength but reveling effects.

Elizabeth's problem, was her tendency to long for her old life. Her old life as it once was.

With Will.

Her life seemed to be muffled by this fact. His death.

His death was suffocating her.

Suffocating her from living some possibilities that could prove to her and others that she was something more than what her past enthralled. Possibilities that perchance opened scenarios, and in time, opportunities to a new life.

Her mind, at this time, is too clouded by the illusive fog of a thousand years of torment that is never discovered until, once accustomed or familiar, it is irreversible.

Cabin fever.

Her immortal adversary.

Her drug for reversal novocaine.

And the only chance for reversal was a _mortal_ healer...

JACK'S CABIN

He paced.

The clunking of his boots against the sturdy lignified surface beneath him created a sort of slow, repeating waltz, as he did laps around his entire cabin. He would sometimes pick something off of his desk or the table on the right side of the room,- which now contained the remnants of his nefarious portrait-and begin to fiddle with it, or switch the many rings that adorned his fingers, from their original place to another, sometimes shooting out strings of curses due to the pain inflicted by too narrow of a ring on to wide a digit.

He was nervous.

It was already noon and her was still bedeviled by what to procure for Elizabeth on her birthday.

He knew she was in her room. In fact, he had only known this, since by inquisition, AnaMaria had informed him that she had insisted it more a relief that she stay there instead of be a burden to those on deck.

He couldn't have agreed more. He stopped his fervent pacing.

As he fiddled with his invalid compass, he thought of her.

No, it wasn't because she was a burden...

She was a _distraction._

He resumed his pacing at the thought of this.

She did whatever was asked...nothing more, and certainly nothing less.

She was beginning to learn- and in a rather fast pace he might add- all that was required in the certain _schooling_, as it were, in the despicable art of piracy.

Sure, she could be a pirate, maybe a fairly good one even.

It wasn't question of _ability_.

It was a question of _control_.

Jack seemed to be losing his control whenever he was around the damn woman. She was beautiful; that couldn't be denied her.

Her hair was the lightest honey brown, that when the sun reflected it, it shined like a halo cascading around her perfectly sculpted shoulders and chest, her body lean and curvaceous enough to make a man yearn without a chance for protest . The body and spirit of a pure angel.

No, maybe it was more of the term of a devilish angel..._No..._

_A angelic devil._

Only a devil could deceive a man his with features such as that. It was certainly no arguement that her temper was the aspiration of a devil.

The time when she had burned rum, he swore he was ready to kill her. And that night at the tavern, she had boiled his blood so hot, he believed that if she went any further, he would have had to plunge himself and her into the cool refreshing feel of the ocean. For him, to calm down. For her..._to shut up._

But, when he would sometimes see her, _really_ see her, and notice a slight smile or a funny but expressive expression, he felt his blood boil in a pleasant temperature, warming his very soul. And now, when she argued with him, it boiled not in anger...but in lust.

He shook his head furiously.

He had to stop thinking of her as a woman. Of course, it couldn't be denied she was a women, but he couldn't allow himself to feel for her this way. She was a part of his crew after all...

He stopped abruptly, and slapped a painful clap to his forehead with his hand.

_Of course. How could he have been so stupid?_

She wasn't a part of his crew..._yet._


	8. Bittersweet Melodies Played On The Many

**The Lady And The Pirate**

Ch. 10 Bittersweet Melodies Played On The Many Waves Of A Dream

_Her haven consisted of masses of intricate designs emblazoned with colors of a sort, that none but those of the dream world universe had ever seen anything of the like. Purples and blues , with tints of green and red, whirled into not the ordinary brownish squeamish substance, but of a royal form, fit to place itself amongst the wall of a grand edifice where only the regal and those persons full of opulence could appreciate. And suddenly such a thing happened. _

_Elizabeth glanced around and saw the gleaming silverware, the laudable china, the draperies that hung along golden rods embalmed into the ceiling, which coincided with the rich ad hoc coloring of the walls. She smelt the succulent aroma that fluidly streamed from the very pores of the alluring ,breath taking, mouth watering nutrients displayed coroneted amongst the previously seen china. She heard the chimes of bells, and swelling of instruments, and came to the conclusion that an orchestra was in the middle of its serenade to masses of dancers as they swirled and twirled expertly around her, as if she wasn't even there._

_Well she was, but not in those jolly persons dream worlds._

_A dream world is a void, sort of like a heaven, perhaps, where one can escape during the night to their own delightful yearnings, wishes, and even personal experiences. A dream world is a place that is meant to be taken as an escape...sort of like a get out of jail free card in Monopoly. It is related to the game, in which you use deceit, in this case with yourself, to find a way around a particular obstacle or blockade in your very life. Sometimes even, these dreams help you find certain solutions for those just causes for your escape._

_Whatever the circumstance, every dream is different, but if you'll notice, there are strange people in this mix alongside the longings and colors. This reason is not because you are acquainted with them, it is merely because they are acquainted and longing for the same things as yourself. And you notice, unlike reoccurring dreams of course, the dream you had the night before, is either forgotten as soon as you wake up, or never returns to your temporary state. _

_But Elizabeth found herself longing for a different type of yearning. One that didn't consist of succulent plump smells to appeal to the nasal cavity and water the eyes at its over flowing power, as you gaze, overcome with amazement at the mere beauty and perhaps even proliferus sights that could fill a pauper's eyes for more than a lifetime to come._

_No..._

_She wanted something else._

_And just as if knowing the exact answer to her undisputed, but certainly unsolved tell tale heart strings, as it were, she was magically, since there really is not other word to describe how she had mysteriously been moved from the lush societal nonsense, to a ocean side cliff overlooking the vast magnitude of a following sea. _

_The view was even more breath taking than anything she had imagined before (and believe me, like most people, she had imagined a lot). She stood on the salty dewed grass, near enough to the edge, but not enough to be in any great peril. The soft earth sharply contrasted with the billowing wind and the hyperactive waves, and she felt herself feel every pull, every crash, that every fear and, in fact even, emotion. It was as if the sea was seeping away the very wind swept splinters that had cluttered her very own over ardent mind. As the waves came forth, they seemed to bring fresh, invigorating ideas, as if a new season had changed and was inviting her to embrace the change too. And as it pulled back from the shore, so had the very slivers of ramifications that had clouded her mind in a storm so great, that even the very own Captain Jack Sparrow, could never predict, let alone try to navigate through, without receiving such great peril._

_Him again._

_He was always on her mind when she was awake, and now he had even been haunting her dreams._

_Haunting..._

_Was that what his doing should be described as, when it had simply caused her to feel and untold anguish in the deep forsaken chambers of her already shattered heart._

_Maybe he wasn't trying to cause the splinters of her heart to be swept away, like the vast magnetic pull of a sea..._

_Maybe he was trying to bring them back to her..._

_Like the breaking of a shore as it sweeps silently over asleep sand..._

_Just then, the sun that had been hiding behind dark untempting clouds, peeked merrily through and began its usually descent down to its own bed chamber in the horizon, while the seas calmed into a delightful glimmer of lost turmoil and a certain glow of familiarity. The splinters were gone as well as the storm that had blocked her mind, and the sea and sand framing her mentality had bonded together in a sort of bittersweet melody, as if maybe, as the waves returned to shore, its caressing touch played a sort of heavyhearted song that reached out and affected who wished for it to perform its charms in their sweetly succulent dreams..._

_And suddenly she felt herself being pulled into a new song of bittersweet nature, when two strong arms wrapped around her waist, and uttered words that consumed her whole self, like a wave engulfing the shore._

"_Que voulez-vous dans la vie ?" __And like a person, drowning _

_amongst the sometimes soothing, but eventually overpowering currents, Elizabeth fought fervently to find the very surface of her mind as these foreign words immersed her into breath denying nullity. And as she broke the surface of this very unconscious void, her eyes shot open and her breath came in shallow gasps._

She had awakened just in appropriate timing, to hear insistent knocking on her cabin door.

"Elizabeth? Lizzie? Are you up?" came the perpetually inebriated voice of a man, whose identity could never be proven false.

She quickly clambered out of bed, since she was in no need to make herself look decent-since decent wasn't even in the used vocabulary that was of piratical attire- and opened the door, to reveal a very concerned, and...was that nervousness in the captain's usual malevolent eyes. No her eyes were playing tricks on her, because just as soon as she tried to use closer examination, his giddy smile blinded her, causing her to in vision him as some sort of child on Christmas day with a brand new toy, or a little darling with a secret.

"Yes J-Captain Jack. Was there something you needed?"

"No milady, the question is not what I need, but what you want?" he said expertly, clearly avoiding her question.

"Oh..." she couldn't think of an answer to that one, no matter how hard she pressed her brain. The vision of the cliff was still in her fresh mind and the way Jack had held her in his arms had...

She shook her head and said a little more coldly than she would usually have permitted, seeing as he hadn't infuriated her yet, "Look Jack, if you didn't come for any particular reason, in which I would understand and be applicable to help, then I am going to have to deny to acquiesce to answering the question. Have a lovely day," but before she could close the door in his face, he held a firm hand to it and replied, "Lookie, Lizzie luv, I have a little surprise for ya as it were."

"Surprise?"

"Aye."

A pregnant pause.

"Well...what is it?"

"If I told ya...it wouldn't be a surprise now would it?" he said, with the usual glint of playfulness in his eyes and the slight smirk in his habitual right corner.

"Oh come on Jack, I'm in no mood for games."

"Who said I made up one?"

She sighed vehemently. "Are you going to show me or not?"

"Come this way love."

And he led her to the galley, and as they were descending the numerous stairs, she noticed that their seemed to be an eerie silence lingering in the loom that was the deck of the Black Pearl.

No shouts...no laughter.

Just silence, apart from the clinking of Jack's boots and the padding of Elizabeth's feet.

"Where is everyone Jack?"

"They are in town on lease for good behavior." said Jack, and Elizabeth didn't think he understood the irony of his own statement.

They continued downward, and Elizabeth felt a tell tale chill in her bones as the eerie silence began to reach her ears in an unpleasant, silent screech.

"Why is it so dark down here Jack?"

"Oh it might be because someone forgot to open the curtains of the windows..."

Just then, the curtains sprung open, and a chorus of "Surprise!", devoured the mute screech with the pleasantry that was found commonly with a welcome.

All of those she had met at the Pearl, had huge grins on their faces at the sight of Elizabeth's surprised, but smiling face.

"Wha...Why..."

"Lizzie it seems our little scream sessions has limited the use of your mind's remembrance, as well as your hearing. Surely you hadn't forgotten its your birthday?"

"How did you..."

"A friend told me." And he left it with that.

At the sight of her adoring smile, he abruptly coughed and said sternly, "Well don't just stand there like a useless log, luv, help yourself to the many gifts that the crew picked put a specially for you."

_Four Hours Later_

Most of the crew was totally hammered by something other than an oncoming cannonball. The drinks were endless, and the speed in which they were consumed was phenomenal. Joyful shouting, encouraging laughter, and spectacular music provided by the Pearl's own orchestra. Everything was joyful and pleasant. Just how Jack had planned. There was only one thing left to do, and thank god he was in a much better condition than most of the crew to carry it out.

"Gentlemen!" and after a hasty cough due to the glaring of Elizabeth and AnaMaria, " And Miladies. Could I have everyone's upmost attention?"

"No." said a drunken slur, which was quickly interrupted by the swinging smack of Mister Gibbs' palm into the back of the man's head.

"Thank you. Now I know this is a party for a birthday celebration and as I can tell from most of you, you are taking full advantage of the night. However, this party was also set forth for an initiation ceremony."

Elizabeth glanced, confused, around.

_Initiation ceremony? What was that?_

"As you all know, to take residence onto the Pearl, you must go through an initiation, and if I remember correctly this speech as been sung more than once, so please bear with me." Jack said, holding his hands together in pleading patience.

"To be a member of the Pearl's crew, devotion and dedication are what it takes to be a part. We on the Pearl are like a family, and like all families, there are certain _rules_, as it were, to ensure, I presume, a sense of satisfaction and tranquility whilst on board or under a captain's command." At this, Jack's chin lifted ever so slightly, but Elizabeth hadn't noticed.

She barely listened as Jack procured those exact rules to her, and only came out of her reverie, when Jack, finished with his little speech, which had been awarded with abrupt cheers and clapping. Then she noticed the little desk by her, which hadn't before, and on it was a sheet, that required the signature of someone.

"Happy Birthday Lizzie luv."

And as he handed her the pen, he asked her...

"Que voulez-vous dans la vie ?"

A/N That means 'What do you want in life?"


	9. Eyes Of A Thousand Worlds

The Lady And The Pirate

Ch. 11 Eyes Of A Thousand Worlds

A slap in the face wouldn't have been sufficient enough to attract Elizabeth away from the glowing light that burned within her as she held her hand out and felt it connect with his as she grasped the quill in her long, slender fingers.

They seemed to just...fit. Mold well in a symbolic connexion. Two pieces as if making a whole. A unity that didn't feel uncomfortable, or as if one party was taking one side over the other.

This was a coalesce that lingered into a brief eternity. But despite their effect on each other and the lengthy period of warmth they felt, all it really was, was a quick snatch of a quill and a turn toward the contract, or so was seen in the eyes of those unaffected by a vision that was only a malady for the restless and the longing.

She hesitated over the page. She knew what the articles had said, but could she really follow them? Or couldn't she?

Was she really destined for a life amongst the most uncouth dissolute creatures ever procured? Was she ready to become just like them?

Just like them...

She glanced around the room, and was surprised how the course of events had made her see this all in a new light. As if someone had put a blindfold over her eyes, and feeling generous, removed it just in time for her to see what truly mattered. To see what was true.

Underneath the unshaven beards and dwelling in every kohl smudged eye, held depths of truth that was hidden by a facade produced and embellished by those who couldn't understand and would never understand the human being that was only a little different.

Not evil...not crude or nefarious, or even intolerable.

Just different.

Why hadn't she seen it before? She was furious with herself as she recalled feeling practically the same way towards these very men she had become to befriend. It seemed all this time, she was hidden behind a mask of righteousness, prevented from ever lifting the veil and seeing what should be seen.

Not what was _wanted _to be seen.

It didn't matter if she would never again see the grand majestic parties of the Season, or feel the cushiony caress of satin sheets on a cool night. No...none of it mattered.

And she realized, her whole life, she had wasted, reveling in possibilities and dreams that, although glamorous and breathtaking to the beholder, were too plastic and crude, and furthermore, a distraction from seeing the true beauty that life had to offer.

How could pirates be considered rascally and vile, when they were the ones that accepted life for what it truly was, for what it was meant to be taken as.

A game...

Pirates know that noone lives forever, and that one day, due to circumstances beyond their control, they might not be there, or might not wake up. So why waste time wondering what you were going to do tomorrow, instead of embracing the spontaneous productions of today. Enjoy the simple pleasures in life, like the warmth of the sun or the fresh salty spray of the sea...because one day it will all disappear.

End...

She stared into Jack's eager eyes as he stepped back away from her, giving her the space she needed to think.

Those dark limpid pools...

Full of knowledge and life...

Full of freedom...

Freedom?

Did she even know the meaning of that word anymore? Had she ever?

Freedom...no boundaries

Total immunity from those forces that try to pull you back into their dark clutches...

Freedom...the key to life.

And they were all in this man's eyes...

Without any other hesitation, and without removing her gaze from his, she found the silver lining that would determine her destiny, and she took it. The ink still wet from the smear of her name on its yellowing parchment.

Loud cheers and a thundering din seemed to warm her heart in a different way then Jack's eyes had, as her new found friends, all came forward to congratulate her and wish her luck in the long road ahead. She smiled through it all. Of course it would be long and grueling, and she would be sure that some times she would wish she hadn't agreed, but through it all, she felt that as long as she could feel this way, and know that this meant freedom, she could survive.

And as long as he...

Over a crowd of heads she watch as a pair of brown boots clambered up the stairs slowly. One step at a time.

She didn't know why, but she needed to follow those shoes on their journey. Venture into a world that she never could understand, but wanted to see. Wanted to feel.

The way she felt when she looked into his eyes...

Repeating pardons and a million thank you's, she pushed her way through the now seemingly large crowd, and finally reaching the stairs, yelled a farewell, and clambered quickly up the stairs.

She felt a jet of cool salt air refresh her face, as it was stifling below and her face had begun to grow flush from the heat, and closed her eyes slightly at the pleasant feeling.

Looking around on the deck for any sign of Jack, but he seemed nowhere to be seen.

Not at the helm...

Not at his usual sitting spot by the rum barrels by his cabin...

And as she looked, she stumbled toward the rigging...

No Jack...

"Looking for somethin'"

The voice scared the bejebus out of her, for lack of a better term, and on instinct she almost screamed, had it not been that her hands, in reflex, slammed over her mouth.

"Sorry I scared ya."

"Jack! What are you doing up there?"

He stretched languidly against the rigging, his feet supporting him as he pushed against the rungs.

"Thinking." he said quietly. She waited for more, but he turned back toward the sky.

She looked up too and noticed, breathtaking glowing stars that she never even saw before. She assumed she was always to busy or didn't care to notice. But now, there was no ignoring their magnitude nor indescribable beauty.

"Oh Jack," she sighed slightly, her voice barely above a whisper that she feared he wouldn't hear her. "They're beautiful."

"Yes...like other things."

"What could you compare to that?"

He stared at her long and hard, and the feeling she felt once he did was one that made her shift uncomfortably under his gaze.

"Just things." he said simply.

She sighed a little in agitation. Of course he wouldn't tell her, he barely told her anything unless it was of importance.

Her mind suddenly strung upon something that had been bothering all day.

"What does, 'Que voulez-vous dans la vie ?' mean?"

"Wha'?" he said slightly, turning his head back to face her.

"What does 'Que voulez-vous dans la vie ?' mean?" she repeated.

"'What do you want in life?' That's what it means."

"Why did you ask me that?"

"Cause I felt like it."

"Well then why would you say it in a different language?"

"Doesn't matter what language I say it in Elizabeth. It means the exact same thing."

"Say it again."

"What?" he said, scrunching his eyes in confusion, "'Doesn't matter what language-"

"No. No. My name."

His eyes scrunching together tighter, he repeated.

She felt a jolt every time he said this. It burned deep within the very depths of her heart, the very heat of her loins. She never felt this way before, and it made her crazy with an impression of indescribable anxiety and something that she had never felt before...but what was it?

He clambered skillfully down the rigging to stand before her.

"Elizabeth..."

The feeling was unbearable. She couldn't think, couldn't speak. It seemed she had temporally vacated all sense of reason, and she didn't care. Not at all.

"''Que voulez-vous dans la vie ?"

She stared passionately into the dark eyes of a thousand worlds, each one she longed to explore, with a feeling nothing less than the longing of a thousand hearts.

"You."

He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. His hand gently cupping her cheek, as he lowered his head, sealing his desire and her lust, in the simplest of melodies. One invented for the sole purpose of expression, and the divine key to unlocking secrets only known by the holder.

A kiss.

Since the beginning of time, there have been five known kisses, that have been the most passionate, the most beautiful...

This one, left them all behind.

A/N If you can guess what movie and the secret quote in the story you get a bottle of captain jack's finest As in rum. LOL


	10. Made For Heaven, Destined For Hell

**_The Lady And The Pirate_**

**_Ch. 12 Meant For Heaven, Destined For Hell_**

_&&Narration&& _

_A Kiss._

_What does that mean to someone when asked 'what is a kiss?'_

_Oh how can they proceed to answer that question?_

_Well, if you have to get technical, I suppose you can proceed like this._

_A kiss is a touch or caress with the lips as a sign of love, affection, or greeting. Simple as that._

_But how can something so beautiful and proliferus such as the kiss, be described as anything less than magical? But then again it all depends in the circumstances and the people involved. Lets face it, there are just some individuals incapable of showing that kind of magic._

_And the only way I can use this term, is by saying, if done right, the connection between the two persons causes a type of spark, and in retaliation or aftermath, a spell is cast amongst them. They relish in each others company, and no matter how they reprimand themselves, they can't seem to let themselves be pulled away by the magic that they have created and now crave more than life itself._

_Magical..._

_The only appropriate word that I have found seems to satisfy what occurs between two parties, and it seems, that Captain Jack Sparrow and Elizabeth Swann, no matter the thoughts coursing through their minds, could not find a way to escape the spell they had cast to each other._

&&Elizabeth's POV&&

Kiss was certainly not the correct term to use for the experience that she was feeling right now against her very own thirsting mouth.

Her senses were filled with a unsatiable need as she wrapped her arms tightly around the very man she sworn she would never find her self in this very situation.

His lips were like a warm sunset. So beautiful and majestic. Having its own life, and would always be there the next time, like the time before. And then they were like water, and she felt her self drowning in his very soul, holding him close, but sinking deeper into a suffocating merriment that had her thirsting for more. As if she couldn't get enough, or, for that matter, didn't want to.

They caressed hers in long sensuous strokes, tasting every bit of what she had to offer, and she felt that what she had would never be enough to satisfy him. That was the only thing that scared her.

His hands, those artistic hands only made for finding the truth in things, seem to painting a picture of her. Skimming over every crevice of her, smoothing down her sides, gripping her hips. And what a picture it would make, she wondered.

He had a subarctic sort of rhythm to him, and he was playing her like a finely tuned instrument. His melody made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world; the sound was deafening to her senses, but at the same time, strongly waking her into a void of pleasance and lust that she had never experienced before in her entire being.

It was as if she knew that this was wrong somehow, but in the end, to her, nothing mattered in the world except feeling his coaxing lips as they ravened her entire being and his gentle caress, stirring feelings too intense to fool with.

She hoped this moment...never ended.

&&Jack's POV&&

She tasted exactly as he thought she would.

Alluring...

Sensual...

But again with a sort of known innocence, that, although should have put him off, put him into a state of competition, as if trying to search underneath those layers of childish fantasy, into womanly lust and confidence.

She tasted like...

An erotic honey.

Sweet and bitter at the same time...depended on your taste.

And to him, she tasted like a confused heaven and hell.

A saint that had somehow lost its way, and needed his assistance, tempting devil spawn, to lead the way.

And he did, coaxing her plump luscious lips into what he hoped was the most thrilling experience of her life. And really all it was a kiss.

No...

He couldn't call it _just a kiss_ anymore.

He knew what _just a kiss_ was.

Those were what he experienced with others of the female origin.

Those who didn't care much for him, but knowing he was a good fuck from reputation and knew he was a captain of a famous ship destined for success, they flocked him like bee to honey.

Meaningless...

Quick...

One word description... for _lust..._.that was all.

But this...this he couldn't even describe, and he was a man of eloquent and articulate words. Never really speechless. Always opinionated. But now he felt himself at a loss for words.

He felt her lips melt like chocolate beneath him, and he watched as her eyes fluttered delicately closed.

He continued to watch her.

He wanted to know exactly what she liked, and what she most definitely loved.

This wasn't just some one night thing and a goodbye...

He wanted to know her...know every little thing that made her _her._

He wanted to show her the kind of things a woman was meant to know.

How to be touched...

How to be treated...

How to be _kissed._

And he wanted all he could get now...before she had the sense or reason to pull away.

&&Normal POV&&

Her back pressed against the helm, as she buried her hands into his hair, as he sucked lightly on her lip, and pressing his tongue against the wall of her teeth. With no hesitation, she opened her mouth to accept his invitation, and moaned loudly as she felt his silken tongue caress hers in fervor.

She felt his hands cupping her neck, stepping closer to her as she laid helpless, but not unwanted against his beloved helm.

She wrapped her hands around his waist, succumbing to the remaining space between them and spreading her legs slightly to accommodate him.

But once she did, however, she felt something that caused her to escape her pleasant void, and hesitated.

Sensing this, Jack released the hold on her, lips ands hands, and well...you get the picture, and stared deeply into her eyes, which were dazed and a darker hazel then usual.

"Elizabeth..."

She looked back, her gaze finally not dazed but quite serious.

His eyes were the darkest chocolate she had ever seen, and he looked like the true Spaniard he was. Lust filled and apparently, very virile.

_But he stopped...why did he stop?_

"This is all very sudden is it not, Lizzie love?" he asked, his tone an octave lower than usual.

How she would like to hear him whisper in her ear, as he...

_Woah where did that come from?_

Shaking her head slightly she nodded slowly.

"I know you are a innocent," when she stared at him slowly, he raised a callous hand to stroke her cheek, "I've known for a while love. It was quite obvious."

"I don't want to do something you will regret. I won't surely, but all I am concerned with right now is your feelings and what is best for you."

"Why does everyone say that?" she suddenly out bursted, and he stepped back from her, eyes knitted in confusion. _What did he say now?_

"_All my life_ I've had countless people, worry and fuss, over every little thing that happens in my life. ITS MY LIFE! I'LL DO WHAT I WANT! AND I DON'T NEED YOU OR ANYONE ELSE TELLING ME THAT I CAN'T CHOOSE FOR MYSELF! WHO ARE YOU TO MAKE THAT DECISION!WHO ARE YOU TO KNOW WHAT GOES THROUGH MY HEAD!" she shouted at him, and he stared at her wide eyed.

"Elizabeth...I didn't mean-" he stared, but she interrupted.

"OH I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU MEANT!" she yelled causing him to cringe.

She scoffed slightly, " You know, I thought you were something different. Someone I could confide in, someone who would see past my past, and see me as something more than just a mere woman who has been pampered all her life, and needed superfluous and unwanted attention._ But your just like them, _aren't you?You act the same way, except you look different." she said gazing pointedly at his cutthroat ensemble.

" I should have known all you men were the same...doesn't matter how you kiss." she spat at him disdainfully.

"Some freedom I have. I cant even kiss someone that I feel for, without suffering some kind of consequence relating to my stature and some bizarre relation to my undecided needs ."

"Some pirate you are...settling for rules." she said, and he noticed angry tears forming in her eyes.

"Elizabeth." he said grabbing at her arm.

"No, I wont listen to you anymore." she said trying to wrench from his grasp.

"_You're just like **them**!" _she added a final time, before finally ridding of his clutch, and running to her quarters.

Watching her leave he sighed and rubbed a wet hand over his face...

_Wet?_

He looked down and saw her tears split onto his once loving hand.

She curled herself into a ball in her bed, and wept.

Nothing else mattered in the world except the way Jack held her.

She could still feel his lips...still feel his sensual touch making her feel like she was the world...

She was his...

And he was hers...

And she realized that.

But all she felt now was a relationship that was too bittersweet for comprehension.

No matter what, he would be an angel, but act like the devil.

For he was destined for it...there was no changing that.

She was his sea glass, and he knew it.

He could see right through her...know her movements before they happened...know what she wanted.

Know she wanted him...

And in the end, she would always end up the same.

Shedding crystal tears of joy and pain for an angel, crimson tears of lust for a devil.

All on an ocean meant for heaven...

Destined for hell.

_**A/N Wow I am on a roll... I am so glad to be out of my bout of writer's block, you have know idea mates. It was madness...and insanity. I would like to thank my reviewers so far. You have all been wonderful. Hope you all enjoyed my chapter. Hopefully one up soon. Poor Jack, poor Liz. I feel like I'm writing a Soap Opera. LOL, R&R mates, savvy?**_


	11. A Free Sparrow

_**The Lady and The Pirate**_

_**Ch. 13A Free Sparrow**_

Commodore Norrington liked everything just the way it should be, but wasn't necessarily so. In more appropriate words, he liked everything normal. Scratch that. He demanded everything be normal. Yes, _normal_ was the word that he would consider adequate to describe the most pleasurable attributes to life.

Sometimes, however, much to his displeasure, there came times when some outside pestilence would try to rob the security and sanity of normalcy in his life, and on the whole, that of the citizens of Port Royal. But, like everything he handled personally, he would find the perpetrator and, in simple terms, handle the problem with aggressiveness and fervor, ensuring that the inconvenience, was taken care of. Efficiently and rapidly. There wasn't enough time to dilly or dally over aggravating and meaningless trifles, as he had so learned earlier in his career. He wouldn't be where he was now if it wasn't for his precision and no nonsense way of handling situations.

Feeling normal, gives you a sense of security, and an overall a feeling of completion, knowing that no matter how others see you, you are complete to yourself. But, as of late, James Norrington, although knowing without a doubt that he was of complete normalcy, felt that there was something missing in his life that was, of course, a conventional nature, and would fill that devious hole and make his life, frankly, normally complete.

To find a wife.

A scary prospect to be sure, but through the passing of time, James felt that a wife would make a lovely addition to his lifestyle. He then began to realize, that he couldn't live with the title, "Commodore and bachelor", on his gravestone. It just seemed so bland to him; not as glamourous as it once was. Perhaps an even grander title existed. "Commodore and husband", or even, "Commodore and father." His lips slightly curled at the corners. Oh what a lovely ring that left echoing in the back of his mind.

A son.

Someone to carry on his title into each passing generation. What a joy that would be!

And as he was thinking this, he came to another horrific conclusion. One that had slowly begun eating its way into the very center of his brain, just to insure that he would always feel the nagging presence once he had a clear train of thought.

He was getting old...

It was destined to happen, as he knew from when he was very young as he watched his grandparents, and soon after, parents' age right before his very eyes. He just never expected that the realization and acceptance that came along with it, would come as hard and as fast as it did, and now he felt a pinch of anxiety every time he thought of this, hit the very center of his stomach.

He needed to find a wife, before it would be too late to even consider one. And as fate would have it, he had gotten his chance five months previous.

Ms. Elizabeth Swann had agreed to become his wife. Two years previous, he proposed to her the first time, and she had accepted only to use that engagement as a bargaining chip in order to trade in for her kidnaped love, the local blacksmith, William Turner. He was devastated, to say the least, when on the day of the notorious Captain Jack Sparrow's supposed execution ( he still grimaced slightly at the phrasing of that) she had decided to 'follow her heart' and risk everything for her one true love. James, admitting defeat, procured for the blacksmith clemency, and the two were engaged.

Shortly after, however, the Turner lad went off to sea , no doubt to meet up with his rapscallion friend, Captain Jack Sparrow, and was killed during voyage on what was said to be a sea raid.

He knew he shouldn't have taken advantage of her frazzled state, but he was beginning to get desperate. But all his nerves slipped away when he realized that she had accepted once again, despite the fact that her eyes and voice were on a distant tone, and she seemed not to even register his touch when he had placed, to be quite frank, the rather superbly expensive engagement ring on her finger.

And then, just two months later, right before the very day of the wedding, it was reported to his unprepared attention, that Elizabeth had disappeared.

Simply...vanished.

Governor Weatherby Swann, was emotionally devastated , and James was in a state of moral shock. Thousands of questions began scanning and shuffling through his head. Where did she go? Was she taken? Of course she was taken, she would never have left on her own free will...

He had sent thousands-not the actual amount, but just an appropriate exaggeration- of naval ships in search for her, stopping every single merchant, and more likely, pirate ship that looked suspicious, attacking every cargo hold in site.

Nothing was to found for three months, and Governor Swann, and perhaps even, reluctantly, James himself, were leaning towards defeat.

Until one day...what resembled a parrot, came barreling into James' window, and crashed its head into the translucent glass, before plummeting into the thorny shrubbery below. Opening the window quickly, not in real concern for the bird, but for really more a joke of how idiotic you must be to fly straight into a window.

The bird suddenly shot up out of the bush, to much surprise to James, and flew over to his oak cluttered desk, and dropped what appeared to be a letter, before exiting just as quickly, and perhaps as inebriated as it came.

Slowly crossing to his desk, his suspicions were confirmed as he noticed a rather strange seal on the back, and his name artfully scripted on the front.

The letter said thus:

_Dearest James,_

_I just wanted you to know, I never meant to leave you in such a state, as I believe you and my rather resemble right at this very moment, and previous moments before, I imagine. I am currently somewhere where I wish for both of you to never find me. It is not because I do not wish to see you again, it is more that by seeing you, I am risking those that I admire and consider friends in moral danger. I am having the time of my life. Much more to my dismay, than you can offer me in an entire lifetime. Do not fret for me James, I have no desire to be wished after and thought upon. Please only remember me as I once was. A woman. Like every other. Please do not come looking for me, for I will be hell bent and difficult for you to find, and be exactly the same way in trying to get me to come back to that society, which I have become to loathe entirely._

_All my love,_

_Elizabeth _

Placing his hands over his face in slight despair and agitation, he tried very hard to remain calm. Most people, without ever really knowing it, tend to leave clues, in which they meet their downfall, and actually reveal their whereabouts. This type of search and find technique took a while for him to master, but in the end he ended up deciphering the information, and getting what he wanted in the end.

Reading over the letter a few times, he began noticing few tidbits of phrasing that stuck out curiously at him. This one, however, stuck out the most:

_**It is not because I do not wish to see you again, it is more that by seeing you, I am risking those that I admire and consider friends in moral danger.**_

Moral danger...who could she be friends with, that if he found her, would be in moral danger.

Unless...

Grasping the envelope his hands, he noticed that the handwriting on the letter was much different than that of the addressing on the front.

The penmanship on the cover was signed with a type of lingering flourish. Casual looping of the letters that seemed to entwine perfectly with each other. Peculiar writing, that most people could not procure.

Flipping over the back where the seal had once attached to the flap, his eyes boggled slightly at the insignia that was blatantly present, and one that, slowly, caused James Norrington to smile, and run gaily out of his office in search for Gillette, who would then string along the H.M. Dauntless, in search for Elizabeth. For it was plain now and to him he seemed quite foolish for not realizing this simple option before.

The red wax seal resembled that of a free sparrow gliding off into the sunset as it settled below a calm sea.

A free sparrow.

_sparrow..._

Jack _Sparrow_

_Captain Jack Sparrow_

**_The Black Pearl_**


	12. The Premonition Tattoo

**_The Lady and The Pirate_**

**_Ch. 15 The Premonition Tattoo_**

For weeks she hadn't talked to him, hadn't even glanced at him. He was afraid that if

she did any of the named, she would do it according to distaste and scorn. He missed her smile, her laugh. And it was sad to say that he missed when she yelled at him. He missed the way she would look when he had aggravated her when she was sword fighting. All mussed and sweating, her face pleasantly flushed from the exertion that he himself had put her under.

Now she took lessons with AnaMaria, and he would sneak up to the crows nest every so often, which was considerably often, to watch. She had gotten much better than he would have ever suspected, and soon, he thought humorously, she might one day beat AnaMaria. He would love to see that.

There were a lot of things he longed to see, and they all involved sweet Elizabeth. Lizzie. Lizzie love. All these names he made up about her. He just wasn't able to get her out of his mind. She consumed him day and night, haunting him in his sleep, the little that he had. His thoughts as he gazed out at the horizon was that of that fateful day when he finally took her in his arms and showed how much he really cared for her. How much he wanted her.

And then he was a complete imbecile and caused her to turn away from him.

And now his thoughts revolved around on how he would be able to get Elizabeth back. Back so he could prove he really did feel for her. Felt for her differently than anyone ever did. Show her that he believed she was more than what she was told all her life. A true woman. Not one coveted by the thralls of society, held behind a veil of righteousness. A woman full of her own sense and integrity. One who could battle with the encumbering embrace of the sea, and ride the waves of passion of a man, who had yet to know what he had gotten himself into.

How...

He stared at the fighting, perspiring forms of AnaMaria and Elizabeth.

She fought with the unsightly embellishment of a dancer. Her limbs moving with a swan's grace in a foreign rhythm meant only for the experienced and precious few. She avoided the blows from AnaMaria with a calm patience, relishing in the mere fact that she could maintain the pace that was set, for she had danced this wave once before.

It even seemed to him, that she had no challenge.

_Challenge..._

Hmm...How indeed...

During AnaMaria and Elizabeth's Fight

Her breath came in panting gasps, but seeing as she was doing this routinely for a few weeks now, she no longer felt that annoying wave of dizziness or that exaggerated pain that clanged against the caverns of the pace right above her ribs. But this was good for her. It keep her busy, physically and mindfully.

For the best part of her time, especially since that incident with Jack, all she seemed to be looking for was an escape. An escape from those dreams she seemed to be getting more frequently. They haunted her...succumbed her into something she never wanted nor intended to become.

Wanton.

Wanton for something that she should never have.

Him...

She still remembered how his lips molded over hers, the purest sin in a most exotic form, while his hands painted a picture over her. As if she was a masterpiece to him. One to be treasured forever, and only by him.

His alone...

Her sword suddenly shooting from her abrupt loose grasp, caused her mind to resume what she had originally intended to have it hindered with.

"Not payin' attention lass."

"Sorry AnaMaria, my mind was wondering."

"I know, I was a tad bit surprised that I had unarmed ye so easily."

"Tis not hard AnaMaria, after all she is an amateur." a new voice sounded, one full of bass and timber, mixed with a slight altercation associated with that of devilish intoxication.

It caused her heart to jump into her throat, and she turned from where her sword once laid, into that of the lax form of the very man she was trying to avoid.

He was leaning languidly against the edge of the ship, his long legs slanted awkwardly, but comfortably out in front of him, while his hands twirled Elizabeth's sword in arching circles. His eyes were filled with a playful coldness, glittering maliciously in the harsh Caribbean sun.

AnaMaria was chuckling humorously at the absurd joke.

"Why Captain that is absolute rubbish. She really has come a long way. She even beat me."

"I've beaten you before AnaMaria. Numerous times in fact." he said, but his eyes never shifted from Elizabeth's.

He had a point.

"Yes well Captain, I still beat her in the slappin contest."

"Yes AnaMaria, if they did, in fact, create a contest for slappin, there is not even a breath of doubt that you would not succeed and beatin' the little girl here."

_Little girl._

_What is he playing at?_

"Captain she's hardly a girl, are ye blind?"

"No, just from my experiences she seems to look to old for her age tis all. And acts younger." he added with a polite smile, but his eyes told otherwise.

Elizabeth's eyes now narrowed into slits.

"Ahem, well Captain, seems kind of harsh of ye don't it?"

"Harsh? Me. No just stating the obvious. I mean you're a wonderful marks woman Ana, but she simply can't be given so much praise. Might all go to her head."

"Is that so?"

Elizabeth had finally spoken, and it the exact amount of anger and edge to it as he had hope it would. He had her hook-line-and-sinker just as he knew he would.

"Yes, tis true. And I only speak the truth."

"This coming from the man, no, excuse me, _creature_, that manages each and every time to worm his way out of every troubling situation on the drop of a hat. Surely that only comes from honesty. How could I be so foolish?"

"Well, to be frank, ye be quite foolish Lizzie luv. Ye just come to realizing it now."

"Don't call me love."

"Oh," he said slapping a hand to his forehead, "That's right, only people from high society and noble facades can have the courtesy of callin' ye what they want. Love is an appropriate term for them. Now let me see, what could a narcissi, roguish pirate be accustomed to callin' ye. Never love. Pirates don't love anyone, only themselves. And how can a pirate, especially, love a stuck up, prim and proper, catered woman. Especially one that could never beat a pirate in a sword fight naturally. She might break a nail." he leered back at her., still swinging the sword expertly in order to avoid getting cut.

Her eyes stung angrily with tears, but she kept them back. Jack was too good for her to be true. This what Jack would always be. A dirty scoundrel. A no feeling, bastard.

"And you can say all this how?" she asked pleasantly, trying to make him believe his comment didn't affect her.

"Simple observation gurl. Observation."

"How can you assimilate something if you've never proved it."

"I've beaten before Elizabeth." he said smugly, stopping his motion of her sword, placing it on the railing and crossing his arms across his chest.

"How can you be so sure you'll beat me this time?"

_Gotcha_.. His smile became more prominent and malevolent.

"I don't know Lizzie, how can I? Unless of course, we did in fact, have a fight. Just you and me."

He threw the sword in the air, and to his surprise she caught it on the handle with her eyes still on him.

"Yes...just you and me." she answered with a maleficent smile of her own.

A half an hour later

"Gentlemen and lady, today ye have all been released from yer numerous and important duties in order to witness a pleasant treat. In a few moments, ye shall witness a grand sword fight for yer personal entertainment between yours truly and yer fellow crew member, Elizabeth." Scattered applause erupted, and Jack waved his hands for the din to calm down.

"Yes, yes, woo, hurray and all that grand stuff. A few rules first. No matter what, none of you are to interfere. This is just between Liz and myself. All by our onesies. Savvy?"

"AYE!"

"Very good. Ana if ye would be so kind as to prompt us as to when to begin."

"Alright, take ye stances."

Elizabeth and Jack took their fighting stances as their swords formed a crossed X to initiate fairness, seeing as they were starting in the same point.

"Begin."

Jack released his sword from its crossed state, and began circling, testing Lizzie's footwork. That was the first test.

"Let's see how much you've learned...love."

His sword arched gracefully down onto hers, while his leg thrust forwards, and the right reaction was to place her back foot back while she blocked the thrust, and the foot was meant to balance her.

He glanced quickly at her back leg. It was slightly behind her front one, and the placement of the blade against his was in correct block.

That's one.

She moved forward and he crept back on his heels.

As their blades clashed, he continued slowly to watch her form. She learned fast.

Now that the test was over, time to really challenge her.

He clashed against hers hard to ensure she was paying attention to him solely. She retaliated with the same harshness. She was ready. Well, we'll see.

He began getting fancy. His feet moving quickly, agility was needed her part, as he moved his sword against hers expertly.

Faster and faster he moved, and more quickly she tried to keep up.

Then suddenly, she felt herself going slower, and she noticed his movements became more languid, more supple.

And then suddenly, she felt her self falling, as she saw Jack crouch low on his knee, and before she could react, he had kicked her feet out from underneath her, and she landed spread eagle onto the deck, and she felt Jack straddle her and point his blade between her eyes, and the cheers that were all in favor of the growing fervor, turned into hushed whispers as they gazed onto her form and his stature.

She looked back to see that her sword was lying a few feet above her head, and glanced back at the sword a few inches away from the bridge of her nose, and the slow knowing smile of the owner.

And he leered slightly as he said, "Just as easy as the last time, eh Lizzie love. Just as a simple. And I even bet you be want in me to kiss ye again."

That angered something in her that she never knew before. She never wanted him to kiss her ever again, and she was going to prove. She wasn't beaten, not yet.

In one move, that shocked both herself, the crowd, and even the master himself, she swiped away the threatening sword and lifted her body in a rotating motion, grabbing his forearms, lifting him over her head and sprawled onto his stomach while she leapt onto her heels and grabbed her sword quickly before he could advance.

He clambered up slowly, retrieving his sword.

"Very clever Lizzie love. I would applaud had I a free hand."

" As you said before Jack, pirates will do anything to get what they want. And I want you to stop calling me love. And the only way that shall happen, is if I win."

"An honest assumption, we shall see Lizzie _love_, we shall see."

And with that he ran up the rigging looking back over his shoulder for Elizabeth to chase.

"Come on _love_, if you can."

Forgetting all reason, all phases of sense, she raced forward to clamber after him.

_Fast little thing, _he noticed humorously, as he had to adjust quickly to her advancing form.

He climbed skillfully onto the main mast, perfect spot for him to win. He had advantage, he knew how to balance of the narrow posting. Liz did not.

She followed after, the wind whipping at her hair, causing it to loosen slightly from its binding, curls framing her flushed face.

"Ready love. See, just as I promised," he said, spreading his arms wide," No one here,. Just you and me."

"Quit blabbering Jack, you're boring me." she said, and following was an exaggerated yawn.

"Ahh getting anxious to be beaten?"

"No, thrilled to know that I shall enjoy the look on your face when you lose."

"H a ha ha."

His sword came down, and she finally became aware that this wasn't going to be as simple as she thought.

The wind around them was blowing more harshly than before, and the narrow footing caused her to be slightly unhinged. But she had to stay together, she had to prove a point.

There was no way she was going to allow the man who had insulted her, get away with making her feel subservient to him. Make her feel less welcome and maybe, perhaps, a dog running from something. Something that she shouldn't be afraid in the first place. If she could only figure out what that was.

Their dance resumed, their moves perfectly choreographed. She wasn't letting up, and he wasn't letting her win. They were giving it their all, and all was what they had to give.

One move. One was all it took. She went forward, as did he, the same identical swipe. Except one was harder, one was more experienced. One prevailed.

Elizabeth was standing, watching her sword fall, and heard its clang echo in her ear as it fell to the floor.

Jack stood, his sword hanging to the side.

"I win love."

"No." she said quietly.

"What do you mean no," he laughed unbelieving, "you're disarmed."

"I can still fight."

"How?" he said, his eyes raising in disbelief and skepticism.

"I still have these don't I?" she asked, raising her two hands.

"Yes, but I have a very sharp object that can cut those pretty little hands off." he said pointedly.

She looked down into her hands, flexed them out then flexed them back.

"Well if you feel unsure of fighting me, then you can always just forfeit." she said, rasing her shoulder in slight shrug.

_What is she crazy?_

"I have a better idea," he said, throwing his sword down into the depths below them.

"Now, we are even."

"Fine."

And with that, Elizabeth threw back her hand and punched Jack straight in the mouth, sending him back trying to maintain his balance.

Wiping the side of his mouth, he smiled slightly despite the pain, "Clever love."

"You'll have a matching one if you don't stop calling me love."

She raised her opposite hand to repeat it, but this time was ready, grabbing her arm and twisting it behind her in a death vice.

And she felt herself being lifted in the air, her feet leaving semi-safe footing, and she looked down to see the crystal blue ocean, and felt her shoulders being held tightly to ensure she didn't fall.

Jack was holding over the mast, threatening to drop her.

The fall would kill her, if he let go...

"Why are you hidin' from me love? Why are ye resistin' me?"

Fearful tears coursed down her face as she tried to remain calm.

"Why did you have to make me do this in order for me to talk to you, be near you, feel you."

_Oh my god. Put me down please._ This echoing over in her head.

"Is it cause of Will? Because I am not good enough. Because you think I can't love you like he did?"

And suddenly the fear stopped, and a painful hit, hit her straight into the depths of her heart.

Will...

She would always love Will. But she never wanted to make Jack think he wasn't good enough.

He was more than enough, more than she ever dreamed. She wanted him to lift her into his arms, kiss her til stars shone brightly in her eyes.

She wanted him to make love to her, to be her first.

And she heard him whisper the words she longed to here into her ear...

_"I love you."_

She felt herself being placed down on a solid surface, before watching the man she loved, dive with more grace and elegance than the king's prized few, into the dipping sunset as tears of longing and love coursed down her face. And for a moment, he resembled what she had seen on his right arm. And it seemed now, that it was like a premonition. Premonition tattoo.

A sparrow flying off into the sunset.


	13. The Storm That Rages In The Hearts of Lo

_The Lady And The Pirate_

_The Storms That Rage In The Hearts Of Lovers_

She sat quietly at her annular shaped window in the deepest extreme of her barren cabin. She had cleaned previously for lack of anything else to do; and because her hands were shaking so much that she had to do something less her hands fall off. Now that her cabin was clean, cleaner in fact, then when she first acquired it, she had nothing else to accompany herself with, so, resigned, she took her wooden oak chair and placed it near the window.

The sun had long ago faded behind the thin line of the horizon, and now, unexpectedly , an onslaught of rain had befallen them all.

But there was something peculiar about the storm that raged outside. Sure it was acquainted with the adequate fierceness that accompanied most hysterical forces, but it seemed, from a person's eye, that it was just like a sun shower. These occurred during the daytime, while the sun is shining with its full potential. However, rain pours from the heavens in huge drops of crystal landing loudly against the unaware ground, making one wonder, how such a perfect sun, could perhaps, be deceiving to the mind, as it cried an ocean of tears.

The same seemed to apply to right now. Except it was even more peculiar, if that was possible. Tonight there was the fullest moon to be seen in ages along with its standard odd coupling of stars. But yet, rain decanted. Ran down in rivulets on the window pane of her room, making a peculiar rhythm that sounded tune deficient but was so catching she couldn't help but linger on the tune.

The moon was so powerful, its prideful glow so full of promise and compassion, her eyes were riveted to its mere shape, let alone the glow. Her eyes traced over the stars and she noticed that when the rain passed over them, they passively enlarged them than made them seem as if they were falling stars, landing in the peaceful water below her.

Beautiful she thought modestly to herself. A sight she was sure she would never see again.

But it was a small price to pay. She could see rain, and she could see stars. The moon, the sun. Anything could be cherished again. But some things, she realized, were not meant to last forever, or at least as long as forever could be conceived as. And they had to be cherished, lest they be lost forever. And you never really knew if what you thought could be a pleasant memory, because you hesitated, because you were afraid, could then become a haunting hole in the very pit of your unfulfilled life.

Then she realized as she rose slowly, why should she wait anymore. Why should she be afraid? If it wasn't meant to be, then it wasn't, but she wasn't going to sit here and regret, knowing that she had the possibility of that longing chance to be fulfilled...complete.

Who knew that it all would matter due to the course of a pirate? She smiled slightly in thought of it. If she had been told months previous that she would fall in love with a debauch character such as Captain Jack Sparrow, she would have told said person, to go and sleep off the obvious amount of alcohol they had consumed to stumble upon that ridiculous notion.

But, it wasn't so ridiculous anymore. Why?

Well, she was in love.

And love, she knew, could never be described as a physical thing. It was a feeling, and what feelings it produces. A feeling of the upmost satisfaction. The kind that makes you stand in a crowded room and dare yourself to spontaneously spout into a series of random dancing, or even perhaps whistle a catchy, upbeat tune. It was an eternal contentment, a feeling of completion.

To love is to accept everything about the person you have amorous feelings. Even their faults and weaknesses.

But she believed that love banished those faults and imperfections with a golden veil of promise. Because those traits, even though they matter, seem to be erased when the person realizes those traits don't affect those special feelings in one's heart along with the unconditional acceptance.

And even though Jack was a ruthless pirate, and perhaps sometimes an uncouth individual , she knew inside that he was a shimmering man of goodness, and warmth, and compassion. He was everything someone in life should be, despite the certain attributes.

But that was what was so perfect. She couldn't remember those things, those reminders of crudeness. She only saw someone who rode on the waves of a promising sea, and sailed amongst the heavens with a grin on his face, a sense of freedom beating proudly within his heart.

And she knew, in her heart, there could be no other man who could promise all she could ever need but him.

He held the fate of her freedom in the palms of his hands.

And she intended to keep it that way, as she clambered up the stairs, taking two steps at a time with her endless legs, in search for her freedom.

And this time, there was no turning back.

**_Aboard Deck_**

A peculiar night it was that graced his presence, he thought curiously to himself. It seemed as if the sky was simply confused and delighted him in toying with the idea of simply have a crystal sky, crying rain.

But who was he to question the moods of his beloved mother nature, hmm? He had long ago stopped wondering what nature had in store for him and his cutthroat crew, and he decided, as long as she kept giving him signals, he could almost, each time, adequately prepare for her spontaneous onslaught.

Not tonight though. It seemed he wasn't the only one who had conflicting thoughts, this long night.

He knew something was peculiar about the nature of the night once the sun had gone down. It seemed to have taken a weird tole when he had clambered back on deck, soaked to the bone from his impromptu swim. And it seemed he barely noticed when AnaMaria informed him that the crew and herself were heading into port for a little breather. He didn't even know that they had docked. So, not really able to put forth an argument, he allowed them a slight reprieve into Singapore, since after her knowing stare, she had provided him to that information.

He actually didn't regret that choice. He relished the times when he was alone and able to take deep breath without much worry. Despite his popular status, even since he was a kid, he loved being alone. Not in the depressing sort of way, more like the kind of alone that meant silence. A breather. A time out.

When he was alone he could appreciate something for what he wanted without opinion and suggestions from other parties. He could gaze into the stars and not wonder what they thinking, for they simply couldn't. And even if they could, what did he care. They never bothered him, he never bothered them. A silly notion, referring to simple glows as actual people, but what did he care, no one was around to reprimand him.

He could think what he wanted, be what he wanted. And the peace of it all, was that it was all his.

His to cherish, his to be part of. His for as long as he wanted it for, and no one could tell him otherwise.

That's what it was to be a pirate. A pirate could go according to his own law code and no one could prevent him from being who he wanted to be, be something he wanted. Be part of something all his own.

Be free.

He barely felt the rain on his already numb face. His clothes had been saturated long ago with reckless carelessness dazed thoughts and cool jetting rain. But he didn't care, all he wanted to do was stare at the stars. And think. Think how he wanted, about whatever he wanted.

Because in his mind, he could make realties, and no one would know, and he could still be happy. He could believe Elizabeth would love a rapscallion such as himself, and not risk being false. That she could love him for what he was, for something other than what other saw him as.

Because he was different. Of course everyone had their own version of his foreignness, but in his mind, he knew Elizabeth would know what he meant by indifference.

And he was glad. And he closed his eyes against the bantering tears cascading from the dew filled heaven glazed sky, relishing in his silence and his personal reality.

And he sang, for he didn't care if anyone heard him, for only he knew the true meaning behind his strain.

Speed bonnie boat

Like a bird on the wing

"Onward!", the sailors cry

Carry the lad that's born to be king

Over the sea to sky

Though the waves leap

Soft shall you sleep

Oceans a royal bend

Wrought in the deep

Flora will keep

Watch by your weary head

Speed bonnie boat

Like a bird on the wing

"Onward!", the sailors cry

Carry the lad that's born to be king

Over the sea to sky

Many's the lad who fought on that day

Well the claymore could weald

When the knight came silently laid

Death onto Clandon's fields

Speed bonnie boat

Like a bird on the wing

"Onward!", the sailors cry

Carry the lad that's born to be king

Over the sea to sky

Burned are our homes

Exiled and death

Scatter the loyal men

Yet there the sword call linens sheep

Chalet will come again

Speed bonnie boat

Like a bird on the wing

Onward the sailors cry

Carry the lad that's born to be king

Over the sea... to sky.

He didn't know he had warm tears caressing his cool cheeks, and he certainly didn't realize that someone had heard his personal serenade. Not until two delicate hands had smoothed the mixture of tears and sky from his face, and opening his eyes, he saw the one thing that made all the difference in the world.

He saw eyes full of vivid color and blazing warmth. Her eyes...

No words passed between them, as they stared at each other through the haze of the ocean's tears over their face and bodies. They didn't care. Nothing else mattered in the world. Fate has a funny way of bringing people together in uncanny situations. And they both figured, at the same time, at the same moment, that this peculiar night was meant for people like them. Those who had freely accepted the unexpected, the strange, even the phantasmal. Those who accepted things for the way they were. As all things should be.

Stepping toward his beacon, he cupped the dainty bones of her cheeks in his hands as he pulled her to him. Never letting their eyes leave each other, his surprising hot lips closed over hers, releasing all thoughts, all doubts, and all fears from each others minds.

Wrapping herself into his embrace, she molded perfectly against him, as the rain poured in silent triumph all around them, the drops and heat from his lust pressed against her caused her lashes to flutter close delicately.

He caressed her lips in tender filled strokes, tasting all that she had, everything she held dear. He wanted to know every last bit of her, memorize her into his memory. For he knew he would, maybe, only get one shot at this. And he wanted it more than anything, for he could simply taste it in the exotic honey of her lips, feel it in the passion of her embrace. She wanted that freedom he held so dear, and he would share it with her, for it was all hers for the taking. All she had to do was ask.

His lips worked their magic over her, and uncontrolled any longer, she raised her hands to the back of his neck to pull him closer, closing all space between them, and moaned a throaty melody into his eager mouth.

Angling his head to accommodate her, he thrust his tongue deep into her mouth, tracing the dearest tinge of sweetness that left him breathless and wanton for more.

Pulling the lapel of his coat with her hands, she pulled him toward some unknown direction, and her back hit what she assumed was the helm.

Confirming the feeling of pegs into her back, he ran his avid hands to soothe the pains now present in her there, as he delved deeper into her mouth, now competing in the sensual dance of her own tongue.

Tracing the deep caverns of his mouth she tasted spice and the rare taste, of aged wine. The more aged, the better it tastes, and she realized that from the last time, the taste had gotten, if possible, better.

They couldn't get their full of each other, there mouths speaking untold tales of wanting, their bodies showing undisguised signs of forbidden lust.

Breaking away from her, with much reluctance, he stared into her eyes once more. They were clouded with obvious desire and were a beautiful, passionate, shade of fine whiskey.

"Elizabeth. I need to know if this be what ye be wantin'. It would surely kill me to discontinue this attack on yer senses, but if you request it differently then I shall surely-"

"You talk to much."

And that was that, as her hands dragged into his hair, pulling him back toward her and her aching lips.

The kiss had certainly left him unhinged, but still comprising enough strength, he bent slightly and scooped her into a bridal style cradle, and walked her towards his cabin, while she rained quick heated kisses down his jaw line and neck.

He was so into the magic she was invoking on his ear, as she traced her tongue along the shell, that he completely forgot that in order to open the door, you had to turn the bothersome knob.

"Dammit," he muttered against her lips, and he felt her lips frame into a smile and slight breathless chuckle echoing loudly in his ear.

Finally overcoming the incubus doorknob, he knocked over the door, slightly tripping on a boot he had left blocking the doorway.

Placing her down on the ground, to avoid any other incidents that could cause her bodily harm, he nudged the door shut with his hip.

She had barely had time to glance around his cabin, appreciate the theatrical glow of the candle on his desk casting their shadows into truly exaggerated mystics along the walls, til he was on her again, pulling her toward him, with more fervor and passion then before.

Their kiss before was once of languid softness, an angel's kiss. It, now, had been replaced with a devil's longing. As if this was the last time they could ever hope to be in each other's embrace, feel their heat melding so well together.

Her legs hit the bed and he fell with her as they scrambled to get comfortable, and still, skillfully, did not manage to break the kiss.

His hands were caressing her hair as he kissed down the cavern of her neck, sucking and nipping the delicate flesh.

It was a delightful tan from what it had once been. He remember when it was a pleasant opaque, how when she became pleasantly blushed, the red tinged down that neck, and he wondered what her skin looked like when she was aroused in senseless desire. He sucked onto the strong column and she gasped at the feel, pulling at the tail of his shirt from under his pants, longing to feel flesh, as she wrapped her legs languidly around his waist

as if in instinct.

His kiss was pure sin, she decided. The warmth that spread into her loins, the pleasant tug in the pit of her stomach left her breathless. She couldn't get enough as she ran her fingers on the searing skin of his back, feeling the many signs of harsh knowledge. His skin told a story, and she felt that same experience one feels when u begin a book and you find yourself unable to relinquish your adamant hold onto the very contents that have you riveted.

Her hands passively traveled over each scar, each mark, as his hands skimmed the outer contours of her hips, dipping slowly into her inner thigh, scant of the inner core she longed for him to touch, and then quickly back out, excruciating the pain that pleasant stormed her senses.

He felt her run her hands over his back, heard her moan and felt her nails dig slightly into his searing skin as he slowly pressed his aching loins passionately against hers, and he felt his heart soar and the aching become almost unbearable.

There were things that most women had never encountered whilst becoming young ladies of the highest reaches of society, and one of those the magical moments that happened in the deep confines of solitude between a husband and wife, or at the moment, more appropriately, a man and woman. She never knew she could feel this complete, so fulfilled, as he kissed her collarbone with light nips of his carnivorous teeth. But at the same time, never so lonely...so ungrasping of what she could really embark on. Like a new adventure just within her reach, and teasingly hanging a scants breath from her shore.

His long hands slipped underneath her borrowed cream colored shirt while his tongue traced over the 'V' neck shaped cut which passed just before the delicate dip of the cavern of her breasts.

"Oh Jack." she breathed hopelessly, her hot breath wisping over his ear as her hands raked into his heavily adorned appraisals, pressuring slightly against his skull, signaling that he was simply doing magnificent thus far.

Tugging on the hem of her shirt, she lifted her arms from around his neck, over her head, and arching her back slightly as he pulled deliberately measured, the feeling of the torturous lining caressing over her skin, the coolness of the unprecedented wind soothing the heat her body had acquired over his insatiable teasing. Finally removing the article of stubborn resistence, she finally felt that string of guilt that hits at the worst times possibly, and she felt her blush creep from her cheek, down her neck, and over the already heated parts of her body, as she noticed how vulnerable and, well, exposed, she was underneath him, her legs wrapped high on his waist, his leering deviously over her, appreciating her very form causing her blush to become more heated, and her hands went for a feeble attempt of trying to covering herself up.

Said attempt did not work, for his hands left their comfortable position and grasp both her hands in his removing them from her chest, and glancing periodically and appreciatively over her.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear, but still giving the effect of flustered flattery and embarrassment.

Her shoulders arched perfectly and dipped gracefully, complementing long arms that were now held in his arms as he sat up between her hips. Her breasts were rich globes of opaque flesh now tinged with the delightful flush of heat, her pink nipples pert and distended from the wave of cool air that passed between them as the humidity broke outside from the falling rain and from the heat of their own humidity. Her stomach and abdomen flattened from the training in which she had now taken part in, but still containing those curves he had glanced from afar as she had so pleasantly traipsed around in her pants and clinging peasant shirt, always jesting at him. Well he was one better now wasn't he.

"Jack..."

"Shh..." he placed his thumb to caress her trembling worried bottom lip that she clenched between her teeth.

He pushed her gently back into the mattress, now straddling her hips, still caressing her lip.

"Just relax..." he whispered in her ear, and the sudden chill diminished just as fast as it had come, replaced once again with that vociferous desire.

His hands smoothed along her stomach, and she felt the sharp contrast of roughened work hands and the softness of the tingling caress, causing her skin to spread over into goose bumps and her nipples to tighten harshly.

"Cold?" when she only shivered in reply, he chuckled slightly.

She wasn't cold, she just wanted attention.

Lowering his head over one breast, he traced a leisured flick against her aching nipple, causing her to sigh and tilt her head slightly in a delightful arch of bountiful neck.

Encouraged by her reaction, he began tracing the outer contours of her two globes, equally switching from both to succeed in the obvious need for attention, as he began pulling down her pants, in an agonizingly slow and pressing manner, until finally they were gone as well and leaving her completely vulnerable to his subjection.

She clutched his hair between her hands as he began tracing a nipple with this tongue, slowly teasing the poor thing to its extreme limit.

"Please Jack," she whispered huskily and hot into his skull, almost barely able to be heard, but Jack being privy to every delightful sound that echoed out of her angelic voice, glanced up from his previous dedication to glance innocently at her.

"Please what?"

"Stop-p Teasing."

He just laughed. He was _laughing_ at her. Did she do something wrong? She started to relinquish his grip from around her, when he scooted up, his loins pleasurably passing over hers so she felt the rigid passion he held only for her, she couldn't help but gulp loudly.

"My dearest Elizabeth," he cooed softly but in a more scolding tone, as he traced two lazy fingers down in her jaw line, " there is no chance in the deepest nether regions of hell, that I, " his fingers tracing down between the valley of her globes, " Captain Jack," down her abdomin", Sparrow, would even consider refusin'," and as he touched her there she moaned loudly, " the obvious pleasure bestowed up me lady. Now," he said kissing her forehead once," _relax."_

His fingers caressed over her nether lips like the smoothest satin, running over them, as he kissed his way down her stomach, teasing her navel, as one finger, curious from his exploration, dipped slowly into her channel, and her eyes widened slightly and her mouth went slack in surprise.

Jolts of pleasure coursed through her as he teased her aureole with the pad of his thumb, tracing the prominent nub, it more sensitive then she had ever know it to be. His teeth lightly nipped her inner thigh, making her realize that he had some how moved from her stomach to ...well..there.

Her hands clenched, for lack of anything else to hold onto, the bed sheets, her knuckles white rimmed with red from the strain. He was going to touch her there, the place where it was considered the most devilish, most uncouth place to even consider to kiss a woman. And yet somehow, the vulgarness and bounderish of the thought and completion of said act, barely registered in her head. She found herself forgetting herself completely as she hoped and waited for him to do what she wanted. What she needed from him.

He blew over her wet nether lips, dripping from her obvious desire, causing a mixture of heat and bitter cold to race through her sense, and as if from instinct, she thrust her hips slightly closer to his mouth, that he lightly kissed her in appreciation of her approval, causing her to sigh deliciously into the onslaught of night.

"Anxious are we Lizzie love," he said maliciously, his hands tracing her thighs and knees with admiration.

"Please Jack," she said again.

"Always beggin' seems almost unlike ye lizzie. Your not being the stubborn, selfish, hell cat I am used to seein'. I have to say I am a teensy bit disappointed." He said emphasizing his point with his forefinger and thumb a scant centimeter apart from its brother.

And suddenly he regretted and applauded himself for what he had just said, for, like a lioness protecting her lair, she pounced, knocking him backwards, and her hips straddled his still constricting pants and belt, raining vicious kissed down his neck.

"That's more like it, Lizzie love," he agreed in contentment as she lightly nipped his collarbone. In answer, she made a sound in a tone confused anger, or enticed passion. She had growled at him.

She _growled at me! _Oh the surprises from this woman, he was sure, would never leave him unsatisfied or bored if that was more appropriate of a word.

She began letting her hands drift under his shirt, pulling at it in slight agitation, until , realizing her obvious discomfort, he slightly nudged her off him and, winking at her, pulled his shirt over his head and flinging it across the room, obvious not caring where its destination was. Pulling her to him, he kissed her long and hard, his tongue swimming over her, as her hands reached for his belt and began unclasping it. This excited him and he grew more harder than he was before she had climbed on him; she was eager, just like him. Plus these pants were becoming a great predicament on his part.

She pulled from his kiss and pushed him lightly onto his back, and using his own words against him, "_relax," _she began kissing down his chest, worrying his right nipple into frantic frustration as she passed her palm over the distended nub, as her mouth sucked lightly over his left. He groaned gratefully, and he felt himself have to shift uncomfortably underneath her, and finding his discomfort she looked down and then back into his gaze and smiled devilishly. He actually had to gulp back a moan at the look in her eyes and she traced her nails down his searing flesh, over his rigid muscles, and toward the band of his trousers.

And before he could think, she had plunged her hands into his britches and grasped his member into her shockingly scorching hands that he cried out in amazement at the sheer feeling. It felt like utter surprise mixed with utter completion.

He felt long and hard in her hands and she began fumbling with the band of his pants, in order to know his obvious desire, see his complete longing for her.

He helped in her attempts and when at last he was free, he let out a loud sigh.

She was astonished...that was the only word that could be satisfactory for the feeling that passed through her as her gaze passed over his...desire.

She had studied (she was one of the few women who was entitled or given the right to be educated in the same subjects as men) great contemporary artists, or many that were commended for their great accomplishments over the last century, and she had studied the male form with much fascination, much like any woman would when in the keen sensation of curiosity. But, even with the photos, it seemed that someone was dreadfully missing some vital information. It wasn't adequately enough described or drawn for that matter, and it certainly didn't give Jack's pride the amount of perceptible justice it deserved.

His didn't even compare to the models she had poured over in study. His was rigid and long in length, certainly much longer than average and thicker if that was the case as well. She doubted she could even grasp him in one hand. Veins strained and she traced an awkward finger over the veins, tracing all the way down to his tip.

He kept himself as composed as he could. After all, she had never been, well, acquainted with this part of his gender and he figured he'd give her a few moments to relieve her curio, and soon to relent to his pent up of soon to be agitation.

She began petting 'little jack' with deliberate forceful strokes, pumping up and down his shaft, hearing his gasps and mewls of approval. His encouragement emboldened her and she licked one finger and lazily traced it over his cock and ended at the tip where she licked her finger in an exaggerated, but not false, moan of admiration.

The moan caused his stomach to tighten and his the burning in his loins to contract harshly.

_Not like this he thought_, and with that, he took dear Liz by surprise by grunting slightly "Too long," earning a surprised yelp from her as he tumbled her backward once more, and covered his searing flesh with her own, loving the feeling of her nipples grazing over his flesh as he pressed lightly down upon her.

The weight was newly pleasant, as she felt him closer to her than ever before and she felt his prominent member poking at her entrance, as if waiting for invitation. She never felt more ready. She knew there would be pain, it was inevitable, and she knew that Jack would never intentionally cause her pain.

"Please Jack."

He kissed her full on the mouth once, before leaning up over her, "please what, lizzie love,"

"I need you Jack, please.

The final consent of her need, was all it took to almost send Jack over the edge. He could take her right then and there, but Elizabeth wasn't some common whore. She deserved the most gentle and sweetest compromise that he could offer. The irony of Captain Jack Sparrow, the most feared pirate to ever set sail in the Caribbean Seas, was now considering being considerate and...kind. The thought made Jack slightly unnerved and it must have showed in his face, for Elizabeth cupped a hand to his cheek, with a look of complete concern on her face.

"Lizzie love," he stuttered, coughing slightly to clear his throat of all traces of uneasiness, "you do know that it shall hurt, when I uh, compromise you, right?"

"Jack?"

"Yes?"

"If I didn't want this to happen, do you think I would be with you right now?"

And not waiting for him to answer, she leaned up to capture his lips in a soul searing, time stopping embrace, where Jack swore, at that very moment, when he thrust his hips into her, he felt that he had plunged into the cavernous regions of her very soul, light blinding him into a state of heaven that all should know and one that he had never thought he would feel.

Instead of the scream that should have woken him from his dream like revelation, he heard that of a divine siren, singing sweetly into his ear.

She had never felt so complete in her entire being, and she knew that there was no way in the deepest hell, that Jack would ever inflict harm onto her. As the barrier broke around her, a slight pain-one that is usually associated with that of a needle prick- was so sudden and so quick, she didn't have the time to contemplate the truth behind the matter, for she felt a feeling much more intense, much more mind shattering, that the pain that was previously present, was immediately forgotten and replaced by this carnal blessing of unforgettable pleasance and hallucinogenic intentions.

They didn't belong together, were never meant for each other, and that was the thrill for them as they moved together in the night. Him with the way he was, and her with they way she was. But it must really be truth, in fact, when its been said that opposites attract. She completed him, and he complemented her; it didn't matter how it was done, it was done just the same.

Elizabeth was the purest of angels before she had bitten into the forbidden apple of freedom that was offered by the devilish snake of a pirate, one, Captain Jack Sparrow. But without him, she would never have found what she was ultimately looking for. The freedom of which is entitled to all human beings. And Jack, without her, he would never have found that place in the deepest regions of one's heart, that causes the mountains to fall into ruins and light to shine through banishing the notorious shadows. The happiness that is meant for all human beings; that's what she showed him.

Revelations and enlightenments were discovered this night, and they found all that they were really proving to each other, was the bounty of their embrace, and the fierceness of madness that they felt from being away from each other. The rain poured restless against the windows; their moans escalating into higher measures; their movements less calculated and more fervor in need.

And Elizabeth then felt the newest feeling spreading out from inside of her as she held onto dear Jack with her very being. Felt as it poured out all through her entire body, causing her to scream Jack's name as brilliant light blinded her as ripples of pure volition cause her mind to be rendered into ambiguous enchantment.

Jack felt her begin to crest, and he plunged into her very heat for a final time. His face smiling and completely elated, he moaned her name over and over as the passion around them ebbed and flowed like the raging ocean outside, rendering them both bewitched with endless lust and complete with superfluous but prolific passion.

And as the last of their passion ran through them, the rain began to finally slow and then cease as Jack curled Elizabeth into his embrace, soothing her as she cried in disbelief and awe, and soon all could be seen that night, was the crystal ebony sailed night and the piercing moon. The moonlight shone upon the two lovers, still unable to part with each other, as their heads leaned against each other, their arms wrapped around each other's waist, and their legs entwined in a knot of unbreakable fortitude. They slept at ease that night, all thoughts of impropriety gone from their minds. All that was left was a sated peace and adoration for the other as the moon kept watch over them in the silence of the night.

Calmness and serenity was all that remained of the waterfall night, and the storm that rages in the hearts of lovers was forever more sweeping away the last remains of wind swept splinters that threatened to diminish the tell tale love of the infamous Lady and her now, forevermore, Pirate.

_So sorry that I took so long with this. I've never writing anything like this before so you'll have to excuse me if it sucks alot. Hope u like it anyway. And I heard that people were getting their stories taken off for replying to reviewers, so i'll thank everyone here and now. Thanx mates, Drinks all around!_

_Katrina Kaiba_


	14. Unnecessary Unpleasantness

_The Lady and the Pirate_

_Ch. 16 Unnecessary Unpleasantness_

Jack couldn't sleep.

He rarely ever could; a condition he had contracted during childhood. The doctor had told them his parents that he had too restless of a mind, that it kept thinking and assimilating even as he tried to sleep. He always thought it was because sleep took up too much time in which he could use to his own advantage, but if the quack wanted to stick with his own story, the so be it. So when he did sleep, it was for short periods of a time, and only when he needed it most.

But as was stated before, Jack couldn't sleep, or more appropriately, didn't want to. For there was much more pleasure in watching the angelic creature sleep- a smile gracing her erotic lips as she dreamed- then wasting it on his own dreams. For what was the point of dreaming about it, when it was happening at this very moment. And he always found that dreams were always too unrealistic- or when they did portray real life- too graphic for his liking.

She stretched against his middle as he leaned on his elbow to arch above her, and then suddenly contracted herself into what resembled a half assembled ball, where she seemed to purr, content, before slipping back into her undisturbed dreams.

Jack began chuckling at this, but stopped after the first few that escaped his notice because he realized how they seemed to echo harshly around the room, disturbing the once serene silence, and another thing was that it upset his stomach from its stationary position, causing it to move against Elizabeth's head, providing that the movement might wake her.

She stirred, and he stopped breathing for a moment, before realizing that the notion was quite stupid, for in fact, if she was going to wake, holding his breath wasn't going to prevent the inevitable from happening.

He saw her open one bleary hazel eye, blinking furiously away the traces of sleep, before seeming to notice him at all. She seemed confused at first; her eyebrows raised slightly then furrowing as if in perplexity, then she seemed to recall the night (or hours before) and she smiled slightly and moved closer to him so they were eye level, traipsing her arm around his lean waist.

"Hello Jack," she whispered, but even that sounded loud in the silence of the motionless cabin.

"'Ello luv. How did ye sleep?" he asked, concerned.

"Quite splendidly, thank you," and he laughed slightly at her politeness.

"Proper even after all ye've been through eh?' he said placing his forehead to rest against her's, and she blushed slightly at the slyness of his voice. But she wasn't going to be conned into that. If he wanted to play, she would play.

"All I've been through? Whatever could you mean Captain Sparrow?" and she nearly laughed at the look on his face as it went from smugness to pure astonishment.

"Wha...?"

"Tell me Captain Sparrow, what exactly did I partake in last night?"

Clearing his throat slightly, finding it lodged uncomfortably with some untraceable malady "Lizzie love, ye cannot be serious. You mean ye remember," he waved his hands in vague, quickly moving, circles, "...nothing?'

"Oh!' she cried out suddenly in mock recognition," You mean when we..." she placed two fingers together, and Jack nodded slightly.

"Well it was so long ago that I feel myself only having rare lapses of the said event. I guess I am in need for another lesson, less I forget..."

Before she could even swallow another bout of oxygen to feed the next few words to erupt from her mouth, Jack had flipped her back against the covers, her head propped against the pillow, as his legs straddled her waist.

"I thought ye'd never ask Lizzie darlin'." he said huskily, slightly growling, feeding off her obvious teasing.

"Hmm Lizzie darlin'...that's a new one.."

"T'won't be the last," he said smartly before swooping over her lips, promising her a full night of passion, with a great lack of rest.

The Next Morning

Elizabeth felt the burning against her eyes, the blinding orange lights behind her lids, and groaned loudly with obvious discontentment. Flipping onto her stomach, she hid from the obvious disturbance, causing the two arms wrapped around her waist to also move and a noticeable shift to form from the bed.

Sighing slightly in annoyance, but entering back into her dreams; she felt quite peaceful. Peaceful, that is, until a persistent knocking came upon the cabin door.

And she sure as hell was not answering the door.

Lifting her head, noticing how the weight suddenly felt like lead, she turned awkwardly toward the other motionless body on the bed, and raising a hand, she perched it onto Jack's shoulder and shook lightly.

"Jack," she whispered.

A slight bit of stirring, but it stilled quicker than it began.

"Jack," she hissed now, in more frustration as the door began to bang now.

Jack, seeming as frustrated as her somehow believing someone was trying to rob him of precious sleep, grabbed the disturbance by the arm, lifted her into the air, and she landed flipped up, straddling his waist as his hands held her's, while he still, despite the obvious commotion this caused, slumbered peacefully.

Suddenly, before Elizabeth could even attempt to remove his hands and continue waking him up, a voice came through the door.

"Captain sir, are ye up yet?" More knocking following, after the realization that Master Gibbs was the owner as to both knocking and voice.

Jack shot bolt upright, earning a squeal from Elizabeth as she felt down and ended with a rather large crash, sprawled on the cabin floor, while Jack scrambled for his clothing. He knew that if it was Gibbs who was to wake him there was a serious matter at hand; after all, AnaMaria was the only one who came to wake him up in the morning seeing as she was the only one who had managed to duck the rum bottle that traditionally flew toward the intruder's head.

"Put yer clothes on Lizzie love!"

Elizabeth and Jack then took a mad fervent scramble for their clothes, occasionally managing to put on each other's vestments. And the more interesting, and would be laughable, part about the search was the location in which they found the said items. As she recalled later, Elizabeth had found her undergarments hanging over the extinguished oil lamp, which just so happened to be at the farthest extreme of the room for the bed's point of view,

But as what could be concluded, there was a visitor that made its presence on the Pearl, and Jack rarely liked these visitors.

"Gibbs you may enter now."

The veteran sailor traipsed himself quickly into the door before shutting and bolting it quickly behind him. Then, he leaned his tired self against the frame and knob, his chest heaving heavily and slight amounts of perspiration could be almost seen gracing his brow.

"Why Mr. Gibbs, what's wrong?" Elizabeth asked concerned.

Not answering her, maybe even perhaps ignoring her question all together, "I told ye Captain. Women be bad luck aboard a ship." And with that he scampered out of the room as fast as he had scrambled in before.

Jack stared at the door for a moment; just a moment, because that was all that was truly needed before the true meaning behind his first mate's words sank in. He didn't truly mean that Elizabeth was bad luck in the sense of that the ship seemed to always have misfortune whenever she was about. He meant that _today_ there was something to do with luck that was going to affect _the woman_.

"Stay in here,' he warned, strolling toward the door, "and hide."

**Abord Deck**

"I told him ye was here, I don't know why he be taken-" Gibbs stuttered nervously, despite his many encounters with those of authority. There was just something about this man who stood stiffly, with his hands folded behind his back, his hair and vestments neatly pressed and polished. The only thing that could possibly be amiss, was perhaps his disposition. His lips set in a grizzly stone line and his chin jutting out forward with the authority of a king.

"Master Gibbs, I believe ye have taken enough of this dear gentleman's time and energy with yer insistent ramblin'. Now I am here, what seems to be the ailing of everyone and anythin'?'

And Gibbs obediently stepped aside, Jack met with the face that he remembered leaving behind him a few times before. A face that always threatened more than could be possibly offered but, but enough of a facade to make Jack worry slightly about his next point of action.

Jack sighed loudly in exasperation. _How to get out of this one?_

"Commodore Norrington, the pleasure is all yours I greatly assume?"


	15. Masters and Belongings

**_The Lady and The Pirate_**

**_Ch.17 Masters and Belongings_**

"_Commodore Norrington, the pleasure is all yours I greatly assume?"_

The conversation was muffled, and the light, quite dimmed, from where Elizabeth hid, barely permitting her to see anything at all. But being that she was hiding in a sailor's trunk, adorned with an endless possibility of _interesting_ and perhaps exotic things, as she brushed aside what felt like a corset, it was quite appropriate to say that these inconveniences were in fact occurring to her as she lay on her side. She silently cursed to her infernal side, which was becoming painfully cramped, and she hardly breathed fear for making the cramp worse, but more in fact that if perhaps she breathed too loudly she would be caught and taking away. That fear sent her on edge, and the cramp was quickly, if not totally forgotten.

Taken away... it was unthinkable, but in this predicament not totally ill probable. Shivers coursed through her at the mere thought that her whole life would be rearranged, AGAIN! Except this time, she would have no say. No freedom. And that is what, perhaps, daunted her most.

These past months had taught her how to live, to really live. How to truly embrace the feel of the wind whipping your hair gaily or the bittersweet salty sea air cleansing and enfolding you. This experience led her to believe that being shut up in the claustrophobic binding of the tight laced corset of regal life, filled with the facades of elaborate jewels and esteemed titles, was just that. Mere facades. Illusions of life that are richly adapted and painted on great frescoes for all the world to see and be blinded by.

They are all truly blind.

For it wasn't rich jewels that captivated her, nor men doting her on hand and foot upon the countenance of a silver tray. The thing that opened her eyes to true happiness and perhaps potential for life, was that fateful evening on that notorious island among the rum bottles and the smell of the sea, complete with its governor, Captain Jack Sparrow.

Yes, it was Jack that completed the masterpiece for her. He was the one that created the true potential of life, in all its vitality and picturesque splendor. He showed her what it meant to have freedom. To live it. To breathe it in so fast that it pumped harshly into your heart and left you exhilarated, or to breathe it slowly, meticulously pouring it into your very soul, and watching in amazement as it completed you, left you full and satisfied with every last drop.

And now, knowing this very pleasure that she now grew accustomed to could be just as easily snatched away from her, she panicked silently. She didn't want to go back to those stuffy dinner parties filled with egotistical men, priding themselves on simple things that could be compared to finding the chamber pot everyday. It disgusted her now. She couldn't think of even tolerating it anymore. For it seemed to form an acrid taste in the back of her throat that repelled her into a world of melancholic agony. She couldn't go back when she had gotten so far, couldn't return when she had tasted freedom and stared it straight in the face. And if she had to, she wasn't going down without a fight. As Jack had once said to her, a pirate does anything to get what they want. Well she knew what she wanted, and one way or the other, she was going to have it.

_**Regular POV**_

Jack stood in the middle of the room, his hands habitually hanging around his belt that held his sword and pistol. Staring at the face of the wigged man who had once tried to hang him, he couldn't help himself from forming a slight malicious sneer as he tried to portray hospitable contentment. I mean after all, once a man tries to kill you, one doesn't exactly take the man in his arms and envelops him in a brotherly embrace.

"Mr. Sparrow," James Norrington's began before being interrupted by a mumbled grunt of "Captain" no doubt coming from the man who he loathed with his entire being.

His face became tinged with furiously anger, red with spite, before he smoothed his navy tailcoat, and shook his head slight as if trying to ward off the interruption with a simple inclination of the head. Now composed, he resumed his first musings.

"_Captain_ Sparrow," his voice tinging with abhorrence, as if annoyed with that fact that someone could possibly conceive the idea of making him of a title above cabin boy, " It has come to my attention that you are a candidate of smuggling a certain..._stowaway_ aboard your ship. And that certain guest of yours just happens to belong to me. Now accordingly, that belonging should be returned to its rightful master, wouldn't you say so?"

"I suppose so dear Norry," Norrington visible shivered with fury at the nickname, but Jack, unnoticing, pressed on," but let me try and put this into perspective, shall I? Now ye said yerself that it is a "belonging of yers". Now that would imply, or at least by me standards, that I in fact, by me onsies, stole something of yers. Am I correct so far?"

"Indubitably Captain Sparrow, as you,"

"Ah see Commodore ye've had yer chance at the floor, allow this humble pirate to have his chance in the intelligent limelight, since this opportunity rarely occurs. Or at least for me." Jack added smartly and indicated to the chair to his left. James walked slowly toward it, as if expecting the pirate to overturn the chair before his bum reached the seat, but he didn't, so he leaned back on its wooden rungs and listened attentively which slightly surprised Jack.

"Now, being so in yer theory, a _belonging_ can be interpreted a number of ways. One most commonly used is that of an item of which is esteemed in the upmost importance to the beholder. But then again, usually, a belonging is inorganic. Meaning," he used his forefinger to emphasize the word, " that the belonging is in fact not of real life flesh and blood and is perhaps, as an example, a candle stick or a wallet or purse of some kind," He walked stealthily around the room, emphatically using his hands in order to convey his point," Now seein' as I am in fact, though not voluntary I assure ye, wanted in Port Royal as a dead man, I would not even imagine runnin' into ye and robbing ye blind like if it's not somethin of immediate and, quite frankly, enormous value. So that point being taken, ye haven't conceived me stealin somethin' as bland as a candlestick."

Norrington went to interrupt to say whatever did this have to do with anything, but Jack held up a bejeweled finger and motion for his silence. Elizabeth lay in the trunk trying to interpret what Jack was leading to as well.

"Now I said that **most** belongings are inorganic. But, there are belongings that are organic, such as people. But commonly, belongings are strung together quite appropriately with the word _property_, meanin that the beholder has complete authority and possession of said item. **Legally.** Therefore, one would lead to believe that you are lookin for a slave, for only slaves are the organic and are 'eld by the law to one or many **masters**, or so you indicated. Therefore, I am led to believe that you believe that I am to believe," Everyone visibly blanched and scrunched their eyes in confusion at Jack's choice of words (A/N if you say it slowly it makes sense)," that this **stowaway**, is your property, ergo, it is your slave, ergo you have legally purchased it, and finally, ergo, you have **legal documentation** **statin' you have rightful authority to have such person under your control therefore ensurin' that I am indeed a pirate and thief for poachin it.** Wouldn't you say so Commodore?" Jack finished leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and a smug smile on his face.

Furious, James sprang out of the chair and marched over to the scoundrel with sword unsheathed, lingered under his tapered nose.

"You dirty nefarious creature. Return my wife to me!"

"Wife?" Jack said in mock confusion, "My dear Commodore I had no inkling that you were married, when was the weddin'?"

"You moron, you stole my fiancee therefore I couldn't marry her!"

Jack's face framed a thoughtful expression, paused slightly, and as if unable to contain the question, he poured out,

"Well then excuse me for being a humble pirate and perfectly frank, but, doesn't that mean, your not married to her, ergo she's not your **property,"** practically spitting the word in Norrington's face.

Breathing heavily as if resembling an estranged bull, Norrington whirled around fiercely and announced, "Ensure that the rest of the crew is situated in the brig, and search the entire ship. I know she is on her, I can smell that infernal perfume she is wearing!"

"Actually that's me Commodore." raising his shirt sleeves, he exuberantly smelled his pits exclaiming, "Eau du Pirate. Do you think it suits me Norry?" The smile on his face was abruptly consumed with blood, as the Commodore punched him square in his top lip and blood poured out like a violent waterfall down his mouth and neck.

"Put him in irons!"

Jack was scrambled to his feet and his arms thrust behind his back and clapped in the all too familiar feel of iron and chain. Grabbing the pirate up by his heavily matted and plaited hair, Norrington met him eye to eye and sneered, "This is the day you will always remember as the day that you wished you weren't named Jack Sparrow."

"'Ey Commodre, Lookie what I found."

And dragged by the end of the sailor's arm was a bout of dirty blond hair, hiding the face of the woman he loved beneath a halo of chains.

"'Ere **master**," the man sneered, "Yer **belongin'**"

**_A/N Oh man I am so sorry it took me so long to write, but I've soooooooooo busy and I've had the worst writer's block ever. I hope this chapter is up to par for all you lovely reviewers. and thanks to all who have reviewed so far. You all receive a giant bottle of rum. To anyone interested, go see POTC2, IT WAS AMAZING. Next chapter hopefully up way sooner that this one. Cheers R&R._**


	16. Crimsom Tears

Ch. 16 Crimson Tears

_Drip_

_Drip_

_Drip_

The eldritch silence of the profligate and repellant watery grave that is condemned the nautical term 'the brig', was shattered by the continual echo of sappy , rhythmically attuned, water. The sudor ran in jagged, rivulets down the sides of the moss filled birch walls; the emeralds and mousy browns commingling together to form a rather squeamish tar like syrup. The impromptu adhesive melded with the salty turbid water and dropped to the soaked off colored hay and grainy dirt, or what could be defined to a point as dirt, upon what was once a clear wood floor, in melodious clangs. Each drip and drap, and clang and cling, stabbed harshly and grotesquely into the minds of every individual that was graced up such a libertine scope, and they clutched and pulled against the very cartilage of their ears, digging deeply with their fingers in the hope of drowning out the twitching melody with abrupt pressure, relieving their suffering with once again, serene silence.

There were no windows. The air was avoirdupois, causing the inhabitants' lungs to contract sharply against its staleness, and what little oxygen they were fortunate to have pass through their pulmonary tract, scraped against the membrane facing of the organs, before fervently changing into squandered carbon dioxide, grating against the throat upon its escape, causing an alliaceous burning.

The only thing that these men were blessed with was the essence of time. They had all the time in the world...and they didn't know what to do with it, seeing as there isn't much to do being surrounded by crudely carved steel bars, dingy walls, and a soaked floor. The possibilities were circumscribed. Many slept, curling into fetal position over the one smirch that wasn't occupied by the tyrannous pseudo-molasses; others paced in fervid grandeur, causing aeonian markers to be etched into the floor.

Only one remained completely reticent and static.

His chocolate eyes, once filled with mirth and fondness, were replaced with a sordid, vitiated, counterpart, as they memorized the steel door at the brig's entrance. This imposter disillusioned the ordinary shine and luster that once graced his worldly orbs, and in its wake, a frigid and glacial phantasmal shadow glazed over the surface.

He was numb.

Frozen to the core by the shock and toil his body had just experienced, and shivering from the sadness that crept slowly behind.

**Three Hours Previous**

"Yer **Belongin'**_" the captor had sneered with malice._

_Upon this, Elizabeth was thrust into the smug Commodore's awaiting arms. He gripped her shoulders in a constringing vice, unyielding his grip for fear of her unappreciated, but useless, escape. The nerves in her arms collapsed under the pressure, stabbing the thick layers of skin and tissue with pins and needles from lack of circulation. Blood clotted violently under the surface toward where his hands were, but Elizabeth bit down upon her tongue, not giving him the satisfaction that he could be hurting her._

"_Elizabeth, darling, Have you missed me?" Norrington inquired with a mock saccharine voice, altering it from its usual tenor to appear sincere._

_Elizabeth glanced up, and in affirm answering, she curdled her voice, the vibrations causing the mucus in the back of her throat to come to the surface in clear clarification, and then proceeded, accompanied with a smile, to spit in his face._

_James Norrington stood in utter_ _obfuscation and bewilderment. Who was this lady, no __**creature**__, that had the audacity and tactless debauchery to spit (the worst insult in English society other than thumbing of the nose) in __**his**__ face? He was Commodore of the Royal Navy, assigned to such by the King himself. His title alone received full marks of honor and respect, and his person was primmed and proper with the very senses of the peers of the realm. _

_Where was his precious Elizabeth, who upon her dear William's death, was tacit and silent, obedient and willing? She knew the obligations and rules and standards that applied to every single member of prestige, especially a woman and her place, and he couldn't believe his eyes at the sight of the delicate wallflower he once knew, being replaced by a vociferous and unseemly hell cat._

_And he knew Jack Sparrow was the one to be thanked for this. Speaking of whom, the devil himself was simply astonished into rib splitting laughter, his cuffed hands attempting, yet failing to clasp his sides, as if trying to soothe the obvious pain of the onslaught of lack of air._

_Turning back to Elizabeth, he was once again astonished, but now furious instead of paralyzed, that she had mimicked the exact same victory smug that the very devil, Jack Sparrow, reflected every time he got his way._

_Retracting his hand back in_ _axenic and unadulterated fury, he whipped back with even more force, knocking into Elizabeth's smirking mouth. The sound of bone and skin merged into a resounding smack and Elizabeth stumbled perilously over her feet from the force of it. Regaining balance, she reached up and felt her bottom lip split down the middle in a coarse line and she tasted the copper acrylic foam erupting into her mouth as she tried to steady the perpetual flow of blood. She felt tears welling piercingly into her tear ducts and the pain against her bottom line of teeth and lip was acerbic to the point of near hysterical screams._

_Suddenly, the once proud Norrington, gazing fondly over his work of discipline, was vaulted to the floor by what felt like a mast into his ribs. Jack, in hell bent fury, was incarcerating and inflicting immediate and unmerciful pain upon the man who had just cracked, not only a woman, but __**his **__woman. Every inch of the commodore was left scathed. Jack punched, kicked, scratched, elbowed, and even bit, every single part that he could reach. His mind held nothing else but undeserved disgrace for a man who claimed he was of the upmost integrity, honor and respectability. He knew of the rules of nobility, seeing as he was once one himself, and he knew them quite well. And the one rule in society, besides preventing of obscene gestures of anger like thumbing and spitting, the number one rule, was never to hit a woman in the presence of others, especially other men. A man was to show happiness in a woman, especially his wife, for she was his confidant and pleasure. Everything she did reflected him and it was his job to keep her in check. But that was meant for the home. In public, he was to show off his wife as a symbol of pride and gratitude towards the peers of the realm, as if it was because of their doing that he was so thankful for his good fortune._

_And he knew one last thing...you never hit someone else's woman. Especially a pirate's._

_Jack, after beating the bejebus out of the Commodore, whose wig was askew and his face was swollen to the point of no recognition, was dragged to his feet, and knocked unconscious under the stub of the a bayonet, after a failed attempt to leap toward the bleeding Elizabeth._

_The Commodore was pulled up by his men, brushed off as much as could possibly be salvaged, and returned, facing Elizabeth._

"_You will not see this man ever again. I promise you. And if you do, it shall be a most painful moment for you both."_

_He turned toward his officials and straightening himself as much as he could, he released his orders._

"_Make sure, __**Captain Jack Sparrow,**__ receives just the kind of welcoming every criminal receives when entering an English cell. And do be generous; we all know how Sparrow loves to be lavished with superfluous attention." _

**Later**

_The incessant, sporadic ,pulsating pressure that slammed against the walls of his swollen head caused Jack to groan in slight agony as his blurred eyes blinked furiously against the intruding imperativeness and veil of darkness that threatened to loom over him. He pushed himself to remain conscious, despite his body's unrelenting preference for sleep. _

_Shifting uncomfortably against his current standing, Jack's eyes snapped open at full attention as he came to the ultimate realization that he was in fact...standing up._

_Looking down at his body he noticed all of his effects and his shirt were missing leaving his endless amounts of tattoos and scars to be put on display. His arms were pulled back harshly to high ly elevated chains, causing his ligaments to stretch and his bones to exceed their limit, as he felt numbing sensations toward the joints, since all the flowing blood in his arms could no longer forgo gravity, and his feet dangled inches from the floor._

"_Lookie Kip, the birdie's awake."_

_Looking up promptly at the intruding sound, he regretted the action firmly as his head slammed harshly into the only comforting wall behind him. _

_The stranger that had spoken, Jack didn't recognize, and he was pretty sure, as his jaw went slack in surprisal, if he was on the other side of this situation he could laugh at the person chained up on the wall for having to deal with this rather insidious looking man. He stood at least 6 foot 7, practically a giant compared to Jack's 6 foot, his shoulders and hips directly linear to each other and matched the width of a mountain. He was lean in the sense of not being fat, but he made girth in areas bulging with muscles as in his biceps, shoulders and thighs. His clothes fit him awkwardly; the clothes rose and fell with each movement of his muscles, stretching over his skin harshly, as if threatening to shred the fabric for an ounce of comfort. His face showed that of sin, the malice dripping from his mouth in unspoken words of terror and amusement. There were harsh lines etched into his face, some wrinkles of age and some scars from determination and a stroke of bad luck. The lines added to the grizzly wind beaten quality of his greying skin and his chin jutted out in an maladroit position, as if it were originally placed somewhere else, but through chances of circumstance, it had been forcefully moved and was now stuck like that. He had not a inch of hair upon his head. His eyes were a dark obsidian. Dark and cold. It seemed to Jack, however, despite the stranger's frigid facade, that he secretly was pleased that Jack had woken up._

_The stranger walked up to Jack, meticulously taking one foot after the other as if drawing out what was to come. Whatever it was, he thought ,as he consciously clutched at the gripping chains at his wrists, it wasn't good._

"_Gud Mornin' Sunshine, 'ave a nice nap?" the stranger said in mock sincerity._

_Pretending to not pick up on the sarcasm Jack added smartly, "Well now that you mention it mate, it could 'ave been a wholllllleee lot better. I mean, for instance, the whole wall and floating thing. Nu uh, bad for me back. My spine might be permanently damaged from yer lack of hospital-"_

_Suddenly before he could finish his sassy retort, the giant gripped his cheeks from the sides, pressing tightly against the hollows under the cheekbones, forcing out Jack's tongue and creating quite the comical face. Whipping out a small pocket knife, the blade shimmered menacingly as the stranger inched the metal underneath the pink vein filled underside of his tongue. Jack's eyes bulged as thoughts of him being like Cotton and being forced to communicate through a throughly annoying parrot traveled into his mind._

"_When I ask ye a question welp, I say it not to expect any of yer smart comments. Yer 'ere on the Commodore's orders and he told us to make as close to hospital as ye would be in a jail cell in England. And that is what we intend to do..." snapping the blade back into his pocket, the stranger ungripped Jack's cheek before punching him hard in his already assaulted face._

_Jack's skull was on fire accompanied by a shattering in his nose, the fragments perforating the cartilage present there. It was broken. The blood soon accompanied the concerto of pain, down over the valley above his upper lip, down his neck and onto his chest. _

_The next blow came to his stomach, where, unable to block it due to his arms being retracted, he crunched his stomach up at the impact, leaving his ribs venerable to the assault._

_Hit after hit racked against Jack's body, blood flowed endlessly all over til it was hard to remember if his skin was once tan and not stained red. It dripped down in raindrops of anguish and toil, like tears of his body's protest. _

"_Enough Lieutenant." a familiar voice rang haughtily throughout the room._

_Adding one more punch for good measure, the Lieutenant struck Jack in the nose again, further smashing the remaining bone._

_Jack felt the pain rip through every pore of his body, and the blood flowed just as mercilessly. Every part of him screamed for clemency and his breath came in ragged gasps as he tried to regain a firm foundation on the one thing they hadn't managed puncture._

_Standing far from the bloodied mess, but close enough so that Jack could see, Commodore Norrington stood before him, smirking at the sight of the Jack being broken. _

"_Hello Mr. Sparrow. How are you on this fine morning."_

"_Oh just peachy Norrie. Woke up, had a nice scone with butter, went for a morning swim, and just got in my usual torturing session. It does wonder for the wrinkles, you should try it some time."_

"_I don't believe so Mr. Sparrow, you look like an awful mess."_

"_Well you don't look like you simply just hit you face against a doorknob either Norrie. But it's a good improvement for you, at least now the inbreeding doesn't show."_

_Letting out a roar of rage, Norrington grasped Jack's neck into his hands and squeezed tightly, blockading any precious oxygen out of him. _

_Jack didn't move, he simply glared deep into Norrington's bright, flaring blue eyes, as he felt his body clutching for air. His lungs collapsed harshly, and Jack almost felt him self sink into well appreciated darkness._

_Norrington clutched tighter. He could kill him right now, and then he would be out of his hair for ever. He wouldn't have to hear his stupid smart alack comments, or have him escape his carefully thought out plans of capture every single blasted time. And he would never have to hear those infernal words...Captain Jack Sparrow ever again._

_But he saw his eyes. Dark and powerful, they showed a flame of defiance that even though it appeared he was losing, that he couldn't escape him this time, he had a secret. That secret that always got him by. The secret that made him live and survive each time, even though he was in the worse shape he could possibly be in, and the chances of him making it were extremely slim. Two secrets for two irises._

_Confidence and hope._

_Letting go of Jack, he mulled over his thoughts as the captive coughed haggardly, trying to regain precious life that had been sucked out of him._

_Confidence and hope...they disintegrate over time. If there were enough reasons and timed causes that is. And Norrington had the perfect solution. Breaking Jack was possible...if one had enough patience._

_Turning back to Jack, he whispered close to his ear in arctic determination, edged with an ounce of delight._

"_It's going to be fun to hear you scream. And when you can't any more, it's going to fun to watch you give up. Watch your own mind betray you. Watch you give in, and practically ask me to kill you. And when you do die, you'll thank me."_

_Jack chuckled darkly, surprising Norrington into controlled fury as he spoke these words._

"_We'll see."_

**Cell**

He never screamed. Not once. He would never be broken, never submit to death when it crept onto him in an encased form of stinging whips and branding flashes of fire.

For he contained a power within him, a self control, motivated by this manifested potency that lingered inside the very blood that oozed out of his raised welts along his back and cauterized flesh on his chest. It raced within the beating of his heart and warmed him despite the chilling constricting air that swarmed around him and threatened to degrade him as well.

He would never give him that satisfaction. He would never give up. Not just because he had undying confidence and hope lingering in his eyes, not because he had the experiences of something of the like before, not because he knew he had more to live for, to see, to experience.

He would never give up... because of her.

She was the key to his determination. She was the life fueled inside him. She was his world He needed to live, if only to see her one last time.

And that's why he stared, static and reticent, at the entrance of the brig, waiting...

Waiting for her with crimson tears carving down his face.


	17. Remembered Broken Hearts and Forgetful B

**Chapter 17**

_Remembered Broken Hearts and Forgetful Beautiful Minds Part I_

_One Week Later…_

Boredom, or the monotonous wasting of time without vocalization of its presence, is an often and niggling occurrence in life, much to the passive aggravation of those individuals who long for its presence to disappear indefinitely. There are many different types of boredom, due to the fact that it most closely appears along the guidelines of situations and circumstances, or more appropriately, the lack thereof.

The two most important, and perhaps more generic of the many possible variations, is that of self-induced boredom, and then the boredom which is forced upon us from some other force- usually far superior in terms of power, class, or even strength. Self-inflicted monotony is mainly produced from the charming quality that majorities of humans refuse to claim as their malady: laziness. Humans are creatures of habit and routine, reason and logic, cause and effect. And even more agonizingly attuned to that which is bad for us. Therefore, it is punctual to say that we develop habits that we deem comfortable and easy (in reference to sluggishness), logically convincing ourselves either one of two possible explanations for such vices: 1) that everyone is doing the same thing we ourselves are doing, or 2), that (in a stand to be of the 'original' and 'individualistic' standpoint) we are simply trying to seek other things to do outside of the realm of society. These reasons lead to the dreadful tedium aforementioned, creating itself into a contradicting spectrum as an unexpected but obvious consequence. And once we figure out that this boredom has in fact appeared, we nitpick and whine, contemplating all through the onslaught as to how we could ever have allowed this circumstance to occur and grow substantially, when in reality, all we would need to do is look in a mirror.

The second, enforced boredom, is never a charming occurrence; never a dreamed fancy. To be told that the purpose of the time you have is to be filled with nothing; the heart actually stops for seconds, rendering your entire body paralyzed from the momentary shutdown of inappropriate and ill-timed blood/oxygen distribution. And even as the passing moments go by, your entire frame is still warbled by the shock you have just embraced unwillingly. This boredom is a dangerous adversary because we have absolutely no control in it. Unlike the first one, we don't even have the choice to complain or whine about our own influence in the oncoming listlessness; we are stripped of our title to pretend denial of our participation, because we actually are not allowed to be involved. **And we actually are bothered by this**, which shows certain hypocrisy in our human process.

Elizabeth Swann was well-acquainted with self-induced boredom; high societal woman are obligated for that sort of thing. Even when they were around their peerage they would be bored, which makes one wonder if women of nobility simply weren't pretending to be bored and going through the motions because they are expected to.

But this…glancing down at her tightly constricted hands stretched callously behind her back, forcing her fingers to press awkwardly and unnervingly into her spine, her wrists scratched and raw from the many botched attempts at creating an unattainable escape, or at least, access to freedom of movement. The small cuts bled slightly at random intervals when the built up pressure of the ties became too much, that the rivulets dripped slowly in achingly echoes, streamed down over her fingertips, pooling around her back, making it impossible for her to mitigate herself from her stiff posture in fear of getting it all over herself.

The ornate clock of white gold and ebony backdrop pulsated rhythmically behind her frustrated eyelids as she closed them in constant agitation. The relentless 'tick tock' reminded her of how torturously slow her time was swaying in front of her along the thin line of life, disintegrating before her eyes. It also pierced her heart each time she looked to discover how long she had been away from Jack.

Tears swelled rapidly and flowed freely down her face (for she had nothing to wipe them away) at the very thought of him. _Was he alright? Was he even alive…_

_No_, she told herself. She couldn't let herself think the worst, the probable yet impossible occurrence. It was devastatingly painful just to be away from him, she couldn't bear to imagine the pain it would be for him to be stripped so harshly from her life. What was even worse was that she would have a hand in it…

Not directly of course; she never wished Jack dead or even would desire it. She loved him and she hated the man that was causing this destruction to their short-lived happiness. Nevertheless, it was her fault he was back and forcefully present in her life. Because she escaped, because she wanted a new life…

What is so terrible about changing your mind? So criminal in wanting a new taste of what life has to offer in the fruits of its nature and mystery? So brutally incriminating as such as this series of circumstances showed. That her whole happiness should be at stake…

Suddenly the door burst open and in stepped the devil himself, attempting to look immaculate in his freshly pressed laundered military uniform and powdered wig; impressive in the stiff, cordial meticulous way he walked, each step as measured and punctual as the last. Attempted would be the key, for all he succeeded in producing from her was acidic bile to rise rapidly to the edge of her throat from the overwhelming amount of cologne he drowned himself in and claustrophobic clenching of her stomach muscles to compete with the dread already forever conscious in her mind.

"Good evening darling Elizabeth, how are you?" he saluted, overemphasizing each consonant as if he were directing his conversation with a two year old and not a grown woman.

Her blood boiled to an ungodly temperature between pissed off and dear-god-you-might-want-to-step-back-before-I-explode. It raced throughout her body, warming the flesh to a vigorous crimson, before lingering within her amber eyes, flaring them into an unsettling melted gold.

But as soon as she was about to retort a response biting in tone and colorful in word usage, a thought hit her-one that would have been very vital had she been as clever and used to escaping near-death experiences or bondage of the inescapable sort.

_WWJD?_

_What would Jack do?_

And so, after her epiphany or stroke of genius, whichever could be applied to what was about to occur, she smiled her most elegant of smiles, one held in reserve for hidden intentions, and fluttering her eyelashes gently she replied, " Why I don't want to hear about myself James. How have you been? Did your day go well?"

Already anticipating some saucy retort, the Commodore was befuddled by the sweetness in which she embraced his coming.

Clearing his throat twice to alleviate the sudden discomfort and tingeing blush that was creeping upon his cheekbones, he answered, " Actually quite well, we are near reaching Singapore. I noticed you haven't been eating."

"Well it is quite difficult eating without the proper use of a fork and knife, oh, and not to mention two hands in which to apply those utensils."

The blush upon his cheek became rosier and he stuttered out, "Well if you were more cooperative to my demands, as well as refraining from trying to escape every time a soldier comes into the room to untangle you, then perhaps you would no longer be in this predicament you have forced upon yourself."

_Forced upon myself, have I Jamesy?_

"About your demands…I've decided," she sighed dramatically, causing beads of perspiration to form upon his already bedewed and heated forehead and his breath to momentarily cease in gasping anticipation, "that perhaps that would be the best course of action for a dishonorable wretch such as myself." And with that she bowed her head in mournful repentance.

"W-w hy-y, Elizabeth. Heh, I don't know what to say. You have awestricken me." He hastily shuffled his feet toward the bed where she lay, and immediately went to his knees, reaching his hands towards her, but immediately retracting them, remembering that she was incapable of clasping his hands back.

"I am sorry for having taken you aback, dear James. I only thought it would make you happy…"she said with a mock look of puzzlement.

"Oh but it does! Oh goodness does it! You have certainly made me happy!" He exclaimed, grasping her tightly by the shoulders and hugging her too his chest in amazement and extreme overflowing happiness. This is all he ever really wanted ever since he had been hinted that he could be a possible candidate for marrying the prestigious governor's daughter. She was beautiful with her full pouty lips, lush figure, auburn eyes (and especially her mass fortune and exalted social status and lineage) that any man would be a fool to deny her his hand.

"Pardon James, but it seems you are slightly constricting my ability to breathe…" Elizabeth gasped somewhere beneath his arms, and startled he retreated himself.

"My apologies, dearest. Would it be suitable if I were to remove your bonds?" he said with slightly raised eyebrow, yet the shine in his eyes showed that he would do the aforementioned action regardless of whether she consented or not (and really, why wouldn't she?).

"Oh could you? It would be such a relief, for I have such, delicate hands…" she trailed off, wincing slightly as the bonds once again, aggrieved her by chaffing against her raw skin.

He moved quickly, a lot quicker than she imagined he would in regards to removing her from her makeshift prison. Once she was freed, she barely contained her sigh of immense relief, attuning itself with the flowing release of pressure from her wrists, allowing the once stagnant blood to rush free to the tips of her neglected fingertips.

"Oh thank you James. You have no idea how good that feels." She breathed in a heady voice, her tenor lowering in pitch to a huskiness that caused James to bloom into an unsightly red as she turned towards him, staring deeply into his steely gray eyes, taking a provisional yet determined step towards his amazed condition.

James Norrington stared within the hazel depths of his glorious angel, the one he has dreamed of being blessed with ever since she had been presented to him, and began singing praise towards his good luck. The way she was looking at him right now, with such wide eyes filled warm with adoration and compassion, perhaps even…no she couldn't be looking at him with that…but such intensity.

He felt his belt buckle become increasingly tight around the intersecting division of his abdomen and his now becoming blood-filled nether regions, when she took his hands within hers and leaned towards his now vulnerable embrace.

"James…I owe you an apology." She announced meekly, glancing shyly from the corner of her eye.

"Apologize?" he sputtered, "Whatever for?"

"Have you ever heard the expression 'You don't appreciate something until it's gone?' I am ashamed at how inebriated I must have been to think of looking twice at _Captain_ (she spat the word)whathisname, when you were standing here this whole time, forever faithful to me. Whatever could I have been thinking?" She finished, sighing breathlessly as she grasped delicately his tremulous hands within hers, deploring her gaze intensely into his eyes, so that he could think of her nothing but truthful and ingenuous, angling her neck towards his towering anticipation.

Reaching her arms around him, she pulled him into her confident embrace and ran her thin fingers along his spine, trailing along the sensitive nerves in meticulously delightful circles of temptation. Relishing in her touch, he energetically and roughly pulled her against his broad chest and tapered waist, clutching her hips to his in hopes of shameless conquest.

Leaning down to conquer his vital enticement, his perpetual longing, his mind barely registered the solid, undeniable force of the blunt of his pistol cracking his dazed forehead, nor the steady trickle of blood meandering down his temple, as his body collapsed and crumpled to the floor.


End file.
